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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26308276">Journey of Fate</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heath17_KO5/pseuds/Heath17_KO5'>Heath17_KO5</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Women's Soccer RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adventure, Ensemble Fic, F/F, Fantasy, Magic, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:16:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>35,896</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26308276</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heath17_KO5/pseuds/Heath17_KO5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Christen longs for adventure. Tobin runs from her past. Lindsey is used to accompanying her brother to meet with women he fancies, but she is unsure of her own prospects. Emily has always followed Lindsey, working for her family, but she longs for more. Ali worries about Christen. Ash needs a good escape. Fate decides to bring them all together on a grand quest.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ashlyn Harris/Ali Krieger, Lindsey Horan/Emily Sonnett, Tobin Heath/Christen Press</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>205</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>305</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Coming Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is super different from everything else I've written for this fandom. It's high fantasy and there is nary a soccer ball in sight. POV changes chapter to chapter, and chapter length varies a great deal from quite short to more average. Also different from normal: I have been working on this for a while already and have the remaining plot mapped out. Hopefully this will mean that I can post on somewhat of a schedule, starting with the first 3/4 chapters coming out a little quicker as they act as introductions to both the characters and the world. I hope you'll give this a chance and come on this adventure with me.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She stands on the ledge, eyes green as the sea after a storm surveying what lies before her. She hears the thunder rumbling in the distance. She can feel the storm’s approach, smell it in the wind whipping her long black curls around her face, feel it in the change in the air, in the pressure drop. There’s more than the storm coming, though. There’s something else. It vibrates around her, electric and thick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Change is coming, whether she wants it or not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She breathes it in deeply, closes her eyes, reaches out for it, trying to get a sense of what it might be, what shape it might take. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thunder rumbles closer and she knows that if her mother saw her, she would call her in, away from the ledge, away from the hint of danger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows her balance, though, knows her footing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is sure of where she stands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes another deep breath, she smells the hint of wet earth in the distance. If she strains her ears hard enough she can hear the splat of heavy drops hitting dry ground far away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She opens her eyes and sees the electricity flowing around her hands. She hadn’t meant to call for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lacks control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s what Tyler would say. Tyler who is always calm and collected. Tyler who has never struggled to control anything in her life. Tyler who is away now, exploring new lands, meeting new people, on her own adventure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushes the jealousy away, centers herself, watches the electricity tighten into distinct balls, hovering above each palm. She merges the two into one larger one, a swirling sparking ball of white hot light. She can feel the heat radiating from it, feel the energy buzzing, aching to be released. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so she does. She steps back with one foot, releases the ball, watches it drop as if in slow motion, and then, with a well-timed kick, she sends it flying, straight into the heart of the storm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can’t help the smile that spreads across her face as the nearing dark clouds spark with a blinding cluster of lightning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Control that, Ty,” she mutters, before turning her back on the view and the ledge and heading back to the smothering safety of her father’s house. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Rain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Another character to meet.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a super quick one. I swear they do get longer!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Heavy drops fall angrily from the sky. The bountiful leaves above her offer little protection against the violent onslaught, but she doesn’t mind. She’s used to the rain. There’s plenty of it in the low countries - in the place she once called home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shakes off the thought. Home is not what it once was. She blinks away the faces of her brother and two sisters, of the weight of knowing what happens if she ever tries to return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stops to rest against a tall oak, the bark rough against her bare arms. Even here the rain drips down onto her, plastering her brown hair against her forehead and neck, soaking into her clothes. She’s not prone to feeling the chill, and that serves her well now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grumbling in her stomach, though - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is not ideal. She can feel the hunger ache beginning, and she knows that if she doesn’t find something soon her energy will start to plummet. She’s been traveling long enough to know the signs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is an estate a few days walk from here, she’s heard, but she’ll be lucky to make it without food. The underbrush is thicker up ahead, and then, of course, there’s the cliff. It is one thing to climb the almost vertical face with a full belly and her wits about her. It’s something else entirely to try half-starved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lightning lights up the darkened forest, unnaturally bright given the density of the trees around her, and she spots a deer in the distance. She marks its spot with calm brown eyes despite the blur from the rian and draws her bow, even as the long-lasting lightning plunges the forest back into the stormy gloom with its sudden absence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inhale. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Exhale. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Release. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears her arrow strike true just before deafening thunder shakes the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulls on her hood, though she is already soaked to the bone, offers up a small prayer of thanks for the meals and mourning for the life taken, and heads off to find and clean her kill. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. An Accident</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The storm proves dangerous for another character.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Posting this chapter back to back days with the last one for 2 reasons: 1) the length of the last and 2) because it's athenas-only-daughter's bday, so happy birthday, chica!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She doesn’t like to travel during a storm. The roads are too poorly maintained and bandits like the dark cover that storm clouds provide to intercept carriages. It’s a risk, for sure, especially with a rain this heavy. They’re not equipped to face a flash flood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closes her eyes and sits with her back pressed against the solid back of the wooden seat. It keeps her grounded, feeling something so solidly supporting her. Her fingers grip the bottom of the seat, squeezing tight, her knuckles turning white with the effort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rain sounds like a roar at it cascades down upon the roof of the carriage and she knows that she’s the lucky one, tucked safe and dry inside while Sonnett takes the beating of the rain to drive the horses on through the storm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t we going a bit fast for the weather?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice cracks despite her attempt to sound in control. She tucks an escaped strand of blonde hair behind her ear to try to hide her nerves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a light laugh, and her brother’s teasing voice answers, “You worry too much, Lindsey. We’re almost there. We just have to cross the river and then the Press Estate will welcome us with open arms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just a clip through dense woods and a turn across a narrow bridge gapping raging waters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even under the best of circumstances, this is not her favorite trip to make. She bites her tongue, though, rather than voicing her concerns. It will only lead to more teasing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closes her eyes again, feels the bumps in the road grow, bounces once, twice, her back hitting the seat a little painfully on the second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sonnett, slow down!” she hollers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she’s too late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels the curve, feels the shift of the carriage, watches as everything tilts in slow motion, and then her body is slamming painfully into the side of the carriage. She can’t help but cry out, swearing under her breath as she attempts to shift only to have pain shoot through her shoulder. She can feel rain hitting her head, cold on her cheek. She blinks up and sees dark sky and rain and then a face, coated in shadows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” The voice is a little hoarse, but laced with concern. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey is tense nonetheless. It would not be the first time bandits used a ruse to get invited in only to rob the occupants blind. She is about to say they’re fine and they’ll be on their way momentarily when she catches sight of the blood seeping from a gash in her brother’s head, his eyes shut, his body horrifyingly lifeless. She hears the scream before she realizes that it is her own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In an instant the stranger is inside the carriage, fingers at her brother’s throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey moves to throw her off, but then she’s easing back and assuring her, “He’s alive. Do you have anything I could use to bandage the wound?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey’s eyes scan their belongings, spilling out around the turned over carriage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This’ll do,” the stranger mutters, already pulling a shirt towards her, ripping the fine fabric to shreds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey is too overwhelmed to protest as the stranger bandages her brother’s wound and turns her attention to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you hurt?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey attempts to shift again, but the pain in her shoulder is no better, her wince betraying her answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stranger helps her upright. “May I look?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not bad. We can’t pay. We aren’t travelling with money.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stranger gives her a half grin and lets out a genuine laugh. “I’m not helping for the money.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey feels dark brown eyes rake over her side and arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see any blood. If you’re not too badly off, I’m going to go help your driver right the horses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sonnett’s okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a tight-lipped smile and a small nod. “Okay enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman is lifting herself back through the hole in the carriage before Lindsey even thinks to ask, “Who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her face appears in the opening moments after her feet have disappeared through it. Her smile is a little wider as she says, “I’m Tobin. Nice to meet you.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. An Arrival</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ali has been Christen's best friend her whole life and she can see right through her excuses.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay so this is going to be the last quick update chapter because the stage is now somewhat set. I will post the next chapter...probably next Tuesday or Thursday. I hope you guys are enjoying and sticking with this through these shorter chapters. Things are just getting started!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You rang, m’lady?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen lets out a light laugh. “So formal. Who is listening?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali’s somber expression breaks into a grin. “You never know when the ears have walls,” she teases, moving into the room with ease. She takes in the wet cloak draped over the chair in front of the fire. “Did the rain catch you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better the rain than my father,” Christen replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali nods. She doesn’t envy Christen for her father’s overprotectiveness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have the Horans arrived yet?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How many of Michael’s jokes do you think I’ll be forced to laugh at this visit?” Christen asks with a sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali bites back what she wants to suggest: that Christen tell her father the truth, that no man will ever win her heart. She knows the answer. She and Christen have been friends a long time. They have had this conversation more than once before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moves to brush Christen’s long dark curls, still damp from the rain as she instead soothes, “You’ve had worse suitors.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen sighs. “True. And his sister is good company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you should marry her, instead,” Ali can’t resist teasing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen swats at her and Ali laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brown and green eyes swivel towards the door at a sharp knock, followed quickly by a “Miss Christen, a message from your father. You are needed in the Great Hall.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell him I will be right there!” Christen calls out in a clear voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs heavily and Ali can feel the weight she carries, the burden that sits squarely on her shoulders since her older sister’s departure. She would share it if she could, but she knows that Christen must bear it alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least she can share her secret, the one that makes courting a more dangerous game. The one that makes an appropriate marriage all the more necessary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If people found out about -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, it’s better not to dwell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now she is safe within the confines of her father’s estate high above the cliff overlooking the river and the woods. Here they can squash any errant rumors about events that cannot be explained by natural means. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She helps Christen into a dry dress, fixes her hair, and they descend to the Great Hall together, Ali just a step behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of Christen’s father, they are greeted by the strangest of entourages. Michael, barely on his feet, head bandaged in what appears to be a dress shirt, leaning heavily on Sonnett, her face scratched, her clothes sopping wet. Beside them stand Lindsey cradling her arm in a makeshift sling and a woman that Ali has never seen before, eyes dark and intelligent, clothes mismatched, masculine, and soaked through, a puddle forming around her sturdy, well-used boots, brown hair pulled back into a high bun, and hand steady on the base of the bow slung over her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was an accident,” Lindsey explains stepping forward. “So sorry to greet you in such a state.” She curtsies, but not deeply, and she winces from the pain the move must cause her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen takes one quick assessment of the situation and begins to bark orders, moving first to Michael. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She spares only a curt, “And you are?” to the stranger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Passing through,” comes the amused reply, and Ali feels her hackles rise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Got a name?” she follows up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The stranger grins. “Tobin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tobin of…?” Ali prompts, sizing her up again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin’s body language is easy-going, relaxed, though she must be chilled from the rain, and unlike her companions she appears injury free, though there is a smear of blood on the hooded vest that she wears. Her hand, though, still has not moved from her weapon, and Ali now makes out a knife tucked into her boots. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She helped us. She’s a traveller,” Lindsey explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Travelling alone through the woods in the middle of a storm?” Ali tries not to sound accusing, but she does not trust easily, especially not someone who comes into Christen’s estate unexpected and unknown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin shrugs in a way that Ali can only think of as obnoxious, but when Christen attempts to take some of Michael’s weight, impatient with the boy she had sent for help taking so long, and Michael sways forward, Tobin moves with catlike reflexes, catching him and supporting him easily despite her slender frame. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In depth introductions can wait,” Christen advises. “Let’s care for our guests. Ali, please tend to Lindsey for me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali nods and sets to work. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Guests</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Christen is intrigued by their mysterious guest.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoy this next installment and the hit of Papa Press!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She shouldn’t crave it. She shouldn’t feel so incredibly energized by this one small hit of adventure. A mysterious visitor? A carriage accident? These should serve as warnings, and yet, all Christen feels is excitement, adrenaline coursing through her veins, head clear, mind focused, whole body humming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The carriage will need extended repairs, which means Michael will be staying for a while. It’s...not ideal, and yet maybe it will afford her small freedoms. Day excursions. Chances to slip away without the watchful eye of her father for longer than a stolen hour here and there. If Lindsey agrees, of course. She would have to accompany them. But Lindsey is quick-witted and fit, usually up for longer walks or more rigorous hikes. Anything, really, as long as they’re not travelling by carriage. Especially now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Tobin...she’s an interesting dilemma. She’s rough around the edges to put it politely.  She’s quiet, annoyingly smug, mysterious, and far too observant to make Christen comfortable. Christen feels intense brown eyes trail her movements, burning into her skin, but whenever she dares look, Tobin’s gaze is elsewhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s also the way that she -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, it’s customary for guests to want to ingratiate themselves with their hosts. Tobin seems indifferent. Conversation attempts are met with flippant or vague responses, and she has not sought out Christen’s company at all, preferring, it seems, to pass her time with Lindsey’s driver. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey had few answers for her, despite their arrival together, other than to say that Tobin had come to their aid and kept a cool head in a crisis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which implies, perhaps, that she has been in more than one crisis before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali doesn’t like her, Christen can tell. She’s never seen her friend quite so prone to eyerolls as when Tobin is around, but Christen is -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Intrigued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re staring again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen looks away quickly, feeling her cheeks flush. “At nothing. Into space,” she lies easily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm. Or at flowing brown hair that could really use a wash because it looks a bit on the oily side, honestly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen represses a snort as her eyes steal back to where Tobin is laughing with Sonnett across the hall. Her smile is wide and bright and crinkles the corners of her eyes. Not that Christen would know up close. The only smiles that Tobin has offered her directly have given her the distinct impression that she’s being laughed at. There’s a freedom to her current laugh that Christen can only envy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have we learned any more about our unexpected guest?” Christen asks, her eyes lingering far longer than they should until brown eyes meet hers and Tobin’s smile morphs into a smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could look away, but that would perhaps be admitting that she was caught, and she is in her family estate, so she holds the gaze steady, a slight smile forming on her own lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet. Sonnett hasn’t learned much,” Ali replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing of where she’s from?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The look on Tobin’s face suggests that she knows that she is the topic of conversation, though Christen is sure that they are speaking in low enough voices that she can not hear it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Suspicious. I don’t like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But who could she be? What threat could she pose? Look at how she travels. She doesn’t come from money. If she had been hired by someone to learn more of…” Christen trails off. Ali knows what she’s alluding to. She’s seen it in person. And perhaps it’s self-centered of her to assume that an unexpected guest would have anything to do with her and her powers. Perhaps it is her father’s wealth, or the recent lucrative trade deals he has negotiated that are of interest to foreign parties. Perhaps it is word of her father that has drawn this relative stranger here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just saying, I don’t trust her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen lets out a light laugh and finally turns back to her friend, though she feels Tobin’s gaze lingering on her. “You don’t trust anyone when it comes to me,” Christen points out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With reason,” Ali grumbles. “You are my best friend. Is it a crime to care?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen smiles. “Remind me when I do finally wed to bring you with me to my new home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re not allowed to leave me,” Ali replies, a “ma’am” thrown on as an afterthought that only serves to make Christen laugh again. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tobin!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite her father’s booming voice, Tobin doesn’t jump. She turns an easy smile on him and raises her eyebrows expectantly. “Good sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about yourself! Where are you from?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here and there, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen watches her closely. She finds no tension in her shoulders, no clench to her jaw. There’s no hint of a lie, but there’s also no information given in her answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A traveller, huh?” her father asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed,” Tobin replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where have you been?” Her father’s voice is jovial enough, but the furtive glance he throws her way betrays his unease. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most recently I stopped at Master Andonovski’s Estate. Before that I was in a small village, taking in the accommodations of a lovely Lady Harvey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two most recent locations. That’s not a lot. It says nothing of where she’s from. Her father doesn’t seem to notice, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Andonovski, you say? That was your most recent stop? That’s...You came over the mountains with no accommodations?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was a path most of the way,” Tobin answers with a shrug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When was the last time you had a bed, child?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen loves her father, she truly does, despite his overprotective tendencies, but his nurturing nature at times blinds him. She can hear the softening in his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before your fine accommodations, sir? Just over a fortnight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen winces at the thought of camping for so long. The image of Tobin on arrival comes to mind, soaked to the bone, dripping onto the floors of the Great Hall, looking like she barely noticed. Perhaps Tobin barely noticed the lack of bed as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gracious! Well, please, stay a while, get some proper rest and some proper food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like that, this stranger has been given an open invitation into their lives. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen represses her discomfort on the surface and manages a welcoming smile, but Tobin answers with one that is more reticent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is very kind. Thank you. I imagine I will be on my way soon, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, Tobin is intriguing for sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Thoughts of mildly adventurous hikes are banished on their first attempt when Michael grows faint within the first half hour. Ali, ever the true friend, offers to accompany him back to the manor, but Christen knows her duties. She knows what her father will expect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(And then there’s also the way that Tobin had accompanied them, the way she continues to make Christen just a little uneasy, to keep her just on edge.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They settle for walks around the gardens. Then, at least, Christen does not feel such a burden to accompany Michael back when he gets light-headed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, perhaps some things are meant to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If not for Michael’s need for recovery, after all, perhaps Christen would not have been near the house to intercept the message from her father. Perhaps she never would have gotten her own real adventure. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Unexpected News</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A messenger arrives and an adventure gets decided on.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bonus chapter this week just because I've posted something every day this week so far, so why not finish off the work week with another chapter. Hope you all enjoy. Things are about to really get started!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“So, are you running to? Or running from?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin’s eyes steady and curious as they stare back at her. There’s an intensity there that might make somebody else shy away from the question, but Emily has learned that the most interesting answers often come with intensity. She grins, and slowly and answering smile spreads across Tobin’s face as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who says I’m running?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only people running are as dodgy about where they come from and where they’re headed. And there’s only two reasons to run.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t just like to travel?” The words are a challenge, but Emily can see the answer written in the hint of a smirk on Tobin’s lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah. I mean, maybe, by now, but you’re running. Sure as the sun rises every morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin’s laugh is light and easy, and Emily likes it. She thinks, if they had more time before Tobin inevitably departs, that she could see them becoming friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My money is on from, by the way,” she adds, and Tobin laughs anew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe someday I’ll tell you,” she teases with a wink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily will hold her to that. If there’s a someday where they’re still in the same space. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She sees the trail of dust, sees the lone rider. She can feel the bad news coming. Nobody comes in like that with good news. Goodness knows she wouldn’t push a horse like that unless there was dire need to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s waiting in the courtyard as the messenger dismounts, feet hitting the ground running before the horse has come to a full stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen, Ali, and Miss Lindsey, coming back from a walk around the gardens, are there as well, watching expectantly. As the eldest daughter of the house, Christen steps forward to intercept the messenger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily does her best to listen without being overtly nosey, but, while she can hear the importance of the message in their voices, she can’t make out the details of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she has much of a chance to edge closer, the messenger is mounting once more and pushing the horse into a gallop that’s a bit easier than the one it arrived on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali is stepping up to meet Christen, and Emily catches sight of Tobin leaning nearby, watching the goings on with interest. Emily uses her as an excuse to move closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to find your father,” Ali is saying when Emily is close enough to overhear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen’s brows are furrowed, a deep wrinkle between them as she stares into the settling dust kicked up by the departed rider. Her gaze is unfocused and her lips are pursed in thought, and Ali must repeat herself before Christen shakes herself out of it and responds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali’s eyebrows raise in surprise, and Emily can see her intention to argue, but then it stops and her expression changes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christen, no. You’re not thinking -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ali, this is my chance,” Christen cuts her off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily finds herself unable to hold her tongue, her curiosity getting the best of her. “What was that all about?” she interrupts, gesturing in the direction the rider had departed in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sonnett,” Miss Lindsey scolds, but Christen still has that thoughtful look in her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sister’s in trouble. She’s been kidnapped and is being held hostage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey gasps, Tobin, suddenly at her shoulder says, “And you want to go rescue her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not a question, but Christen nods anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t. It’s too dangerous,” Ali declares. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen turns a pleading gaze on Ali. “You KNOW how much I’ve wanted this. Ali, if I don’t escape and prove that I can handle myself in the world, then I will forever be bound to a man, either my father or a husband that I -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cuts herself off, but Emily can guess the ending. She’s seen the way that Christen’s eyes linger on Tobin. She’s noted the way that her laughter is never anything but polite, performative around Michael. Christen has no longing for a husband. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But Tyler is in trouble,” Ali counters. “I know you. You won’t risk your sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They won’t harm her. Not really. Not if they want something from my father. A cut of his business, access to his trade routes. Whatever they want, they won’t get it without leverage,” Christen argues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali still looks hesitant, but Christen says, “You KNOW I can do this, Ali. You KNOW that I -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Ali cuts her off. “But you’re not going alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Very much not,” Lindsey agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily can’t help the way that her eyes go wide. Apparently she isn’t the only one who can’t hide her surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re going off adventuring, you’re going to need support,” Lindsey says. “What have you seen beyond your father’s walls? My mother used to take me on trips with her when I was younger. I have travelled with my brother courting to nearby cities. I can help. A little, at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If Miss Lindsey’s going, I’m going,” Emily volunteers. She doesn’t hesitate. She only second-guesses her declaration when Tobin raises her eyebrow, a knowing smirk on her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But your brother,” Christen counters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will not be heartbroken he does not have your affections and honestly will be happy to be rid of me,” Lindsey supplies. “But Sonnett, I can’t ask you to -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to,” Emily cuts her off. “Besides, I know horses better than any of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin snorts, but says nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then it’s settled. We’ll gather supplies today, then tonight, once the grounds are quiet and my father is in bed we depart,” Christen declares in a hushed whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any idea what supplies you’ll need for this ‘quest’?” Tobin asks, her tone almost mocking, but still technically respectful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily has to admire the line that she walks, even if she knows she could never pull it off herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any idea where your sister is being held?” Tobin continues. “You’re a sheltered middle child, taking your best friend/attendant, a pampered acquaintance from a wealthy family, and her driver?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Emily protests her inclusion on the list. She knows things. She’s seen things. She’s traveled. She’s not helpless. Ali’s not either, she’s pretty sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you volunteering your extensive travel experience to our rescue mission?” Christen demands through clenched teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I have no need for dead weight on my travels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen’s jaw sets and Emily takes a step back, feels the anger radiating off of her. She holds her cool, though. More than Emily would, that’s for sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if you don’t plan to help, please leave us to plan. We have work to do.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Preparations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The group prepares for an unknown journey to uncertain places, and Ali vents a little.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is a bit filler-y. The adventure is about to begin, though! I'd love it if you dropped me a line to let me know your thoughts so far on things like character introductions/dynamics, etc...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“She’s a good-for-nothing, ungrateful, unhelpful -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ALI!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali pauses her tirade, though she has more choice words she’d like to share. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Packing?” Christen suggests pointedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Ali murmurs, setting about helping Christen pack, guiding her to clothes that can be more compact, more multi-purpose. “I’m just saying would it have hurt her to give us some advice? After your father took her in, provided her lodging and food and -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you even want her on the trip?” Christen counters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Ali replies quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me either. Can you imagine? Putting up with the attitude? The know-it-all posturing? The constant evasion of questions? That incessant smirk?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is something in the tone more than the words, something that Ali might have missed had she not known Christen so very long, had they not been friends since before they could walk, had they not spent their formative years so very close together. It gives Ali pause, makes her survey Christen for a moment, the way her shoulders are held tight, the way her gaze strays beyond the cloak that she’s bundling into her pack, seeing through it. “You’ve given her thought?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen balks at the suggestion. “Not much. No more than any other traveller that passes through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels like a lie, but for now there are far more pressing matters at hand. Besides, by the time they return with Tyler - hopefully they return with Tyler - Tobin will have long been on her way. They’re unlikely to ever cross paths again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She switches tactics as Christen peruses her shoes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think it wise that Lindsey accompany us?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen hesitates. “Her interest seems genuine. And her brother is currently unable to travel. Besides, Sonnett IS good with horses, and where Lindsey goes, Sonnett follows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali grins at that. “You’ve noticed, too?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lindsey seems oblivious, but I have eyes,” Christen replies with a thin-lipped smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali puts her hand out to stop Christen’s shoe selection. “Not those. You can have my boots.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What will you wear?” Christen protests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My other boots. They’re more broken in anyway, better for a longer trek.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“How far can we push them if we share?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sonnett surveys the horses, blue eyes calculating, but warm. She tucks a stray strand of blonde hair behind her ear with one hand as she rubs down the side of a horse with the other. She murmurs gently to it. “Not as far as we’ll want,” comes her assessment after a long moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So we must acquisition two more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three,” Sonnett corrects, “depending on the amount of baggage we’re bringing. Remember, our packs will only add weight and tire the horses more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we’re packing as light as we can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sonnett grins. “I’m not sure that Miss Horan knows the meaning of the words.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali lets out a small laugh. She likes Sonnett. For all the trips that the Horans have made, Sonnett has accompanied them as their driver each time, and she has left an impression on Ali. She’s young, perhaps a bit naive, but solid enough, funny, but thoughtful. “Do you have sufficient supplies?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sonnett nods. “I’ve made nice with the kitchen staff. Don’t worry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali laughs again, despite the plan, despite the numerous unknowns, despite the threat to Tyler and the looming dangers, she thinks, perhaps, this adventure might be good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That doesn’t mean she’s not going to worry, though. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Departure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The gang gets underway on their adventure (with a bit of grumbling).</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They’re going to get themselves killed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not a question, it’s a certainty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re going to get themselves killed, and there’s no reason that she needs to be along to witness it. There’s no reason that she should go and get </span>
  <em>
    <span>herself</span>
  </em>
  <span> killed trying to protect them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Out of the question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s come far too far without getting involved in anyone else’s business. What is it to her if Christen’s sister doesn’t come home? She’ll be on her own way soon and she’ll probably spare nothing more than the occasional passing thought to the green-eyed beauty with an air of mystery who thought she could go adventuring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin watches as two hooded figures slip out of the side door of the main house. They stay close to the wall as they make their way towards the stables. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are not remotely inconspicuous, but hardly anybody is around to give them a second glance at this late hour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nor does she care when a slightly taller and even less conspicuous figure makes her way out, keeping her head down as she hurries towards the stable as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes pass, and then a few more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a loud bang from the stables that echoes around the outer courtyard, and Tobin is fairly certain she hears a most unladylike curse follow it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes after that five horses are led out of the stables, with three people trailing after them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a bit of quiet commotion and Tobin has to bite back laughter as she watches an attempt at a satchel being mounted to the side of a horse’s saddle, only for it to fall to the cobblestones after half a second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re going to die,” she murmurs to herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not going to go. She’s not going to help them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Let them go off on their idiotic quest completely unprepared. What does she care? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hood of Christen’s cloak falls back from her face as she struggles with her saddle bag. Black curls tied up into a tight braid. She looks around quickly as she tugs it back up, eyes looking right past where Tobin’s leaning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck,” Tobin mutters as she pushes off the wall, tugs her bag and her bow over her shoulder, and heads over to the group. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go get ourselves killed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Keen green eyes stare accusingly across the horse. Tobin feels warmth as she takes the last bag from Christen, their fingers brushing. She affixes it easily to the horse with fingers that have not yet forgotten a time when horses were a part of their daily life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Ali who talks, brushing past her with an intentional bump of her shoulder that is anything but gentle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Helping rescue someone’s sister, apparently,” Tobin replies, sizing up the fifth horse as Lindsey and Sonnett mount theirs. It’s packed heavily, but Tobin travels light, and the horse is tall and sturdy, a beautiful chestnut brown stallion. “Hey, boy. What do you say, can you take a passenger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The horse snorts in agreement as she pats his nose and she slips a sugar cube out of her vest and offers it to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Always carry sugar cubes on you?” Christen asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin feels the burn of her gaze, steady and unwavering. “You don’t?” she replies with a shrug. “When I have access, they can come in handy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She mounts the horse with ease, though it has been a while since she’s traveled this way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watches as Christen mounts her own mare in a surprisingly graceful move. “I thought you didn’t want the dead weight,” Christen points out. There is a hint of venom in her voice, but a hint of a smirk on her lips and Tobin decides to focus on the latter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I figured the entertainment factor was too good to pass up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The what?” The annoyance in Christen’s voice is evident, and her volume control falters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’d like to depart without your father’s knowledge, might I suggest we do so now?” She nods towards the old guard approaching on his rounds with a torch in hand. He hasn’t noticed them yet, but he will soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Yes. Okay.” Christen sits up straighter in her saddle. “Off we go. To rescue Tyler.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lead the way, Princess.” Tobin can’t resist the tease as Christen nudges her horse into a walk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen shoots her a glare, but doesn’t comment. Ali, however, cuts her off with her horse and throws a harsh, “Watch yourself, Wanderer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But of course.” Tobin flashes her a grin, and clicks her horse up to a trot to pull alongside Christen. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Travelling Pains</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lindsey takes a while to adjust to life on the road. (but maybe also gets to flirt a bit).</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Maybe she shouldn’t have come. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not that she minds the discomfort so much (although her bottom has never been sorer), or the prolonged bouts of hunger in favor of covering as much ground as possible as quickly as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, she’s a bit miserable. Especially with the steady drizzle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sonnett is laughing and cracking jokes like always. Christen sits beautiful and apparently impervious atop her horse. Ali seems mildly annoyed, but then again she regularly seems mildly annoyed. Tobin actually seems like she’s enjoying herself, leaning back against a pack, feet up as the horse plods along, somehow maintaining her balance and making it look effortless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey is the only one who appears to be bothered by the cold and the wet. It was nice when after they departed the first night they had found an abandoned barn to take shelter in. It hadn’t been so bad. But since then...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She holds her tongue, though. She holds it when her horse splashes awkwardly through a puddle that’s far deeper than she thought and her legs get soaked. She holds it when her boots stick in the thick mud when they have to dismount to get through a tricky pass. She holds it when her horse gets spooked by a snake and almost throws her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She holds it as they finally stop to make camp, as they set up feeble shelter in fast fading light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She holds it right up until darkness has beyond settled and still the struggle to light a fire continues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulls her cloak tighter around her, shivering still as she sits on the wet ground. The cold is soaking into her bones, spreading through her with a feeling of permanency. She watches, almost mesmerized as a spark appears only to die out before anything can catch, the wood as sodden as she is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She jumps at a heavy sigh and then Tobin is standing, stalking away, muttering under her breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey glares after her. She has been anything but helpful and now, what? She’s just giving up on them? The hell with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is ridiculous. This whole trip is ridiculous. You should have just told your father,” Lindsey snaps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three sets of eyes turn to her. Sonnett’s are wide in surprise, Ali’s narrowed in annoyance, but Christen’s are unreadable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leans over to Ali, a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Lindsey watches as her posture adjusts to less defensive. Christen whispers something low, too low for Lindsey to hear, and Ali turns quickly to face her with a vigorous shake of her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen seems to think for a moment longer before she too sighs. “Maybe you’re right, Lindsey, though you did volunteer to come. You had to know the journey would not be comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s true. She did. Maybe not how uncomfortable, but she had been excited at the prospect of change, of adventure. How often can young women from reputable households escape the watchful eyes of a male relative without a ring on her finger and a new last name? Yet here was an opportunity practically handed to her. “How many days of travel do you think until we reach where your sister is being held?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen shifts as she attempts once more to strike a spark from the rocks in her hands. “I don’t know, exactly. The messenger was...a little vague about her whereabouts.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey sits up a little straighter, frustration pushing away the seeping cold and wet. “How vague?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen straightens too, shoulders back, eyes focused on her fingers as they continue their task. “I know the province.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“THE PROVINCE?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not too bad. Just several hundred square miles to search probably,” Sonnett chimes in, voice far too cheerful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s trying to make light, Lindsey knows, but there is nothing to make light of here. They are off on a rescue with only the vaguest of destinations in mind? Tyler may as well already be dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she can reply, Tobin reappears in their small circle, though Lindsey hadn’t heard her approach, and tosses something towards Christen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Light this first. It’s a special moss. It’ll catch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How she’d found it in the dark, Lindsey doesn’t know, and she’s not sure she cares as the first spark that Christen gets does indeed catch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank God for Tobin!” she sighs as she watches the moss begin to burn brighter, catching a few of the smaller sticks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey inches closer to the fire as the first larger branch shows signs of catching, only vaguely aware of a long look exchanged between Christen and Tobin. She barely hears the quiet, “Thank you,” fall from Christen’s lips with Sonnett moving in next to her exclaiming, “Now we can get cooking!”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“She doesn’t even know where we’re going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you rather be back tending to your brother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words surprise her. Sonnett isn’t prone to talking back to her. Then again, They’re not usually on quite such even footing, traveling side by side by day and laying side by side by night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sky is dark, no stars shining through the layer of clouds visible through the forest leaves, still she stares upward, sleep eluding her despite the exhausting day. There are too many unknowns, too many variables. She’s used to having things planned. Perhaps that’s yet another indication that she shouldn’t have come, but the fact is that she’s here now. She has to make do. Being able to sleep would help though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s all but forgotten an answer was due. “No. I wouldn’t rather be tending to my brother. I love him, but -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Men can be stifling?” Sonnett suggests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey laughs despite her current discomfort. “Precisely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the flickering light of the fire, burning low now as they try to get some rest, Lindsey can pick out the smile on Sonnett’s face, can see the way her eyes are darting between her and the sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something stirs low, a feeling she’s felt fluttering here and there, but always ignored. There’s the faint tugging of a thought at the back of her mind, a question dancing on the tip of her tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sonnett’s fingers brush the back of her hand, the touch innocent, likely accidental, but it sends an unnatural warmth tiptoeing up Lindsey’s arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sonnett?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm?” The hum is sleepy, and Lindsey feels the cobwebs of sleeping gripping at the corners of her mind, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can call me Lindsey, if you want. We’re travelling companions now. You don’t work for me on this adventure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels the absence of Sonnett’s fingers acutely as she shifts beside her. There’s a tension rising in her chest, a heaviness in her stomach, pressing on her lungs as if to make it hard for her to breathe, like a corset laced a little too tight, as Sonnett rolls onto her side and blue eyes bore into her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lindsey,” she echoes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey nods. The way that her name falls from Sonnett’s lips sends a tickle down her spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can call me Emily. If you want. Since we’re travelling companions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey smiles. “Emily.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The answering smile makes the firelight dance a little brighter. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Journeying On</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>More troubles on the road, and Christen tries to figure out if she can actually tolerate Tobin for the entire trip.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Felt like dropping a bonus chapter this week. Please let me know if you're enjoying this!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I say we bypass it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But beeeeeds,” Lindsey complains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to be that person, but I really wouldn’t mind a bed for a night. Neither would my spine,” adds Sonnett, or Emily as Lindsey has been calling her for a few days now, which Christen can’t help but find an interesting development. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not horribly shocked that Emily is backing Lindsey’s wishes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen’s own body is longing for the comfort of a padded mattress, but Tyler’s life may be on the line and she doesn’t know that another messenger hasn’t been sent to her father about it. Even if it hasn’t there’s no way that her father hasn’t sent men off in hunt of Christen. There’s no way they’re not being tracked, and if they find them, if they catch up with them, well -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’ll never be let out of her father’s sight again. And she might well be betrothed to Michael before she’s dragged back, if he’ll still take her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not the life she wants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has to prove herself. She has to show that she can do this. She can handle things herself. And in a town people might have word of her, might be looking for her, or at the very least there will be more prying eyes who might be able to provide information if asked, especially if a bit of coin is flashed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, they need to stay out of towns, out of sight, and keep a low profile. Five women traveling together will hardly be inconspicuous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The terrain has been easy, we have ample supplies, and if we can make it a bit farther, my father and yours, Lindsey, are less apt to have sent messengers or scouts ahead,” Christen points out. Her voice is level, and her points are valid, but she feels a hint of regret even as she sees Lindsey nod her reluctant agreement. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well...We HAD ample supplies.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen could really do without Tobin’s CONSTANT snark. She has something to say about EVERYTHING, whether or not it’s helpful. Clearly nobody ever taught her the art of holding her tongue. Unless it’s about herself, that is, because somehow she STILL has given hardly anything personal away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have anything useful to add? Or are you just here to be a pain in the -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christen!” Ali cuts her off, pointing downstream. “Do you think we can beat it there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Tobin replies. “To both. That ship has sailed. Or that satchel, anyway. Our food is fish food now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can forage. And...and hunt!” She’s scrambling and she knows it. She knows it, Tobin knows it, Ali knows it...Hell, probably even Lindsey knows it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hunt? With what weapons?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a bow. Is it decorative?” Christen’s reply is quick, sharp, but it’s more than a little reasonable to get a bit testy, surely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So we’re doubling back?” Emily suggests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. We HAVE to keep going.” They do. They need to. Tyler is depending on them. They can’t turn back, they need to press on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But supplies?” Lindsey points out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s another town. More a largish village, really. Smaller than the one we’ve passed, but they’ll have a market. It’s not too much more than a day’s ride from here. Two at most.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you know this how, exactly?” Ali prods, her eyes fierce. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen bites back a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I talk to people. It’s useful, sometimes, to know what lies ahead, not just behind,” Tobin replies. “Besides, there were plenty of maps at the Press Estate. Your father was kind enough to let me study them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maps. One of those might have been useful to bring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hindsight, however, did nothing for her now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, we’re supposed to go an entire day, maybe more without food?” Lindsey demands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin holds up a finger, moves to the riverbank, and pulls up a few cattails by the roots. She walks back and hands them to Lindsey. “There. Now we can make a soup and a salad tonight. Best get a move on. The longer we stand here chit-chatting, the longer it will take us to reach the village.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen can see Lindsey’s annoyance. She notices the way that Emily touches her, braver than it would have been a few days ago, calming, soothing. She notices the way that Lindsey’s shoulders slump, some of their tension draining. Emily murmurs something too low for Christen to hear. She gives them their moment, turning to Ali instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate her,” Ali grumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. But at least we’re not losing ground.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali nods and mounts her horse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better check your saddle bags!” Tobin advises, climbing easily onto her horse in a single motion that is annoyingly graceful for as lanky as she is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen does as suggested, despite who’s doing the suggesting. Hers are tight. They won’t lose any supplies from her today. She mounts and starts up, Lindsey and Emily already pushing on, Lindsey’s impatience at the prospect of real accommodations and real food already obvious. Ali is just ahead of her, her mare trotting along. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin comes up beside her. “Was that helpful enough for you, Princess?” The words are asked in a low voice, meant just for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen breathes out her annoyance slowly, taking in the teasing lilt to Tobin’s voice. “Depends on how well you cook up those cattails, Wanderer.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Market Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A new face enters the picture. Also, the gang encounters a little (unwanted) excitement.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is for anyone who's been waiting for Ash to show up. <br/>Thanks for all the feedback on the last chapter! It's nice to know that people are actually reading this! xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The market is slow today. She hates it when it’s slow. She may as well be elsewhere, hustling up some other business instead of wasting time here. Usually she can bank on a few tradespeople from nearby areas stopping by. Who doesn’t need something fixed these days? And she’s good with her hands, a Jill of all trades as it were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today, though, all she has is Carlos. Carlos, who is standing there arguing about pricing, how it’s just her and she’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>woman</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so why should he pay her what she’s asking. He could have Llanez do the same thing for the same price, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe that is why she notices the group of women so quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, maybe it’s simply because they stand out like a sore thumb amongst the usual tradespeople, the occasional long-distance traveler, and the villagers. One of them wears her wealth obviously, adorned around her neck and a sizeable purse at her waist. Another wears hers more discreetly, but it’s still not too hard to spot. There are plenty here who will jack up their pricing as soon as they spot them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She keeps an eye on them, more out of interest than anything else, as she continues to argue with Carlos about quality of service and pricing. He’s as thick-headed as he is unattractive and Ash can’t help but pity his poor wife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a lanky brunette with the group that feels out of place, and another, more poised, but less obviously wealthy than her friends, who keeps shooting glares in her direction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there’s the bouncy blonde, who sticks close by the moneybags, though Ash gets the distinct impression that it’s not the money that keeps her close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The one who wears her wealth discreetly keeps her cloak up and her gaze wide, but she hasn’t spotted Jared and his gang yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re not violent. Not really. Not often. Not more than once with Ash, and they wouldn’t dare try it again. They’re not exactly polite, though, and she can tell they’ve noticed the one woman’s purse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that it’s any of her business. They come into a town looking like that? They had to have known they’d garner a lot of attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The one at her side catches Ash looking, her dark eyes curious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash looks away. She’s not the bashful type, but something in her gaze as she caught her gives her pause, makes her adjust her attention more fully back to Carlos. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s trying to get her to add in other services now. She’s not a maid. It’s not what she does and she tells him as much, but she finds her eyes drifting back to the strange group. They make their way to a few stalls, mostly those that offer food, though the one that seems out of place among them, takes a good long look at Dom’s selection of crafted knives and axes. She sees them start to approach Cristiano’s stall and Ash just KNOWS that he’s already putting on his smarmy smile and hiking up his prices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The brunette with the piercing brown eyes catches her eye again and Ash shakes her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a moment of hesitation, then a slight smile before the woman turns away, puts a hand on her friend’s arm, and guides her further along. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s done her good deed of the day. She’s saved these strangers a few coins. Now back to business. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can always fix it yourself, you know, Carlos.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I mean if I - Well, I have those - And you know, my knees aren’t what they used to be and -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash holds up a hand, cuts him off. As expected, he’s full of nothing but excuses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the edge of her consciousness, she’s vaguely aware of Jared making his move, delivering a charismatic speech. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s on them if they’re going to fall for it. If they can see through his bullshit, there’s nothing she can do for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be reasonable, Harris. What’s your best price?” Carlos is demanding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gave it to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But Llanez…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash tunes him out as she sees the group heading towards the alley. God dammit!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, it’s not her place to intervene. What does she care if they leave with much lighter purses? Maybe she’ll even persuade Jared to hand over some of what he gets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then the brunette with the piercing eyes has to go and throw a smile over her shoulder. Of course she does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God dammit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, Carlos, if you want it done mediocrely, then by all means, go and hire Llanez and spend the same amount of money for worse work. Otherwise, hire me. Why don’t you go ask your wife which she’d prefer. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, she leaves him spluttering at her stall.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span> “Jared!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t turn. He simply swears, his shoulders slumping forward. He knows her voice. “Give it a rest, Ash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about you pick on someone else today,” she suggests. She’s aware of Lou and Joey closing ranks behind her, but she can take them. Lou’s right ankle is weak and Joey’s nose happens to be the perfect height for connecting with her elbow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me, what?” It’s the woman who is more discreet about her wealth who has spoken, the one that Ash had pegged as the sort of leader of the crew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what he’s told you, but Jared here is planning on conning you out of your money.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get lost, Ash!” Jared shouts, finally turning from where he’d been leading the travellers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if you couldn’t be conned, his friends here,” Ash gestures to the two behind her, and picks out another four lurking on up ahead, “would be happy to persuade you in other ways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a thief?” The woman with the curly dark hair tied back in a braid and pale green eyes turns to Jared accusingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Told you,” murmurs the lanky brunette. Ash notices for the first time the way her hand is inconspicuously under her cloak. Perhaps this group isn’t as helpless as she’d assumed upon initial evaluation. She’d now put money on the idea that the woman is armed, her hand on a knife at the very least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Look, ladies, I heard you talking about accommodations and I -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have none to offer,” Ash cuts him off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two more of Jared’s cronies appear, doing their best to look uninterested as they move closer, into position to strike if need be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash isn’t a fan of the current numbers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, ladies. I’ll show you to the inn.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jared’s demeanor shifts, a smirk spreading across his face. “Wouldn’t do that if I were you, Ash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash narrows her eyes at him. “Oh yeah? And why’s that, Jared?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heard Old Man Sam found out about you and his wife. Heard he’s angling for your head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.” That does put a slight dent in her plan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She catches the raised eyebrow from the woman who keeps looking her way. The one with dark brown eyes and dark brown hair and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lets her eyes trail over high cheekbones, attractive bust. It doesn’t take much imagination to picture the shapely legs hiding beneath her trousers. Fuck, okay, focus Ash. She offers a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, well, there’s probably space at the manor, then. Keep in mind,” she adds towards the group of travelers, “I am using that term loosely here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jared’s posture grows in confidence, and Ash can sense the next words out of his mouth coming. “Master Howell was raging about how you should be hanged the other day. Right in the town square.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me guess,” Lanky Brunette says in a gruff voice, expression half amused, half impressed, “you seduced his wife as well?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Close,” Ash replies with a grin. “His daughter...s.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Plural?” the leader asks. She sounds vaguely impressed, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash shrugs again. “They’re quite attractive. And a bit bored waiting for husbands to come along. Not that they’re apt to be satisfied with husbands now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve burned your bridges here, Ash,” Jared declares, bringing her attention back to the matter at hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess it’s time to move on,” she muses under her breath. She feels Joey and Lou moving in closer, Jared’s confidence bolstering their own. She locks eyes with Lanky Brunette. “Knife?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a slight nod. Almost imperceptible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Them?” she asks, not bothering to indicate who she means. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least one more. Maybe two,” Lanky Brunette replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Definitely two,” the hottie with the piercing gaze volunteers. Ash can’t help her grin. She’s a little impressed and a lot intrigued. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash can see Jared trying to follow the conversation. He’s not the sharpest, but he’s not exactly dumb, either. Their time to make a move is running out. “Back that way?” she suggests, nodding over her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lead the way,” the de facto leader invites. Clearly she has had no trouble following things. She’s got a sharpness in her eyes, a constant assessing happening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, lead where?” Jared asks, as Ash says, “Go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gets to Joey’s nose first, leaving only Lou actively blocking their path, but she hears movement behind her and looks over her shoulder to see the more obviously wealthy of the group being grabbed by Jared and one of his buddies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bubbly blonde who has been making moon eyes at her is quick to act, clobbering the one closest to her with a pretty decent uppercut. Ash is about to move in to help, but as Jared’s hands reach around the woman’s body, Ash sees rage building inside her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME!” the woman declares, suddenly seeming much larger than she had a moment before. In a moment, Jared is flipped over onto the ground in front of her, staring dizzily up at the stones of the buildings looming on either side of the alley. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At their leader’s easy dispatching by the member of the party that everyone had pegged as the most vulnerable, the rest of the gang scatters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash turns back to Lou, who sizes them up, weighs his options for a quick moment, then turns on his heels and runs. She can’t help but let out a laugh as his foot catches on the cobblestones of the square and he is sent sprawling. “Well, then. Time to pack up and be on my way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Leader says, stepping forward and extending a hand. “For your assistance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems you didn’t really need it after all,” Ash says, giving the one she now thinks of as the Wall a respectful nod as she shakes the leader’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Wall’s cheeks color and she turns away shyly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where will you go?” It’s the first time Ash has been able to properly listen to the girl with the piercing gaze’s voice, and it sends shivers of excitement running through her. It’s a little hoarse and a lot sexy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs. “I’ll find somewhere new to set up my stall. I travel around a bit anyway. Sometimes my reputation as a good worker gets overshadowed by other reputations. At least either way I’m good with my hands,” she adds with a smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s an answering grin, and Ash is holding out her hand, introducing herself before she can think better of it. “I’m Ash, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ali.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are stunning, Ali.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re clearly a charmer,” Ali retorts, but the blush on her cheeks suggests that she might well be a bit charmed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Christen. We are...Well, we’re...My sister has been captured up north and I...Perhaps we could use someone with your skills? If you have no clear destination in mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash’s eyes flick from one face to the other. These women have already proven far more interesting than initially anticipated. Her eyes settle once more on Ali. “Yeah. I could travel with you. For a little while. Come help me pack up.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Transitions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Emily does some pining and Tobin does some gentle nudging.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily looks away quickly. “Nothing.” She’s been doing that more and more: staring. She can’t help it. It’s not like she was oblivious to her feelings for Lindsey before this, but she’d also been conscious that she was reaching above her station. She should aim for friendship, nothing more. But now…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now they’re travelling companions, nights spent watching the stars side by side. Now Lindsey walks her horse beside Emily’s more often than not. Now they call each other “Lindsey” and “Emily”. They feel like...well, like equals. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there’s the way that Lindsey had single-handedly taken down the leader of the gang they’d encountered in town. She’d thrown him to the ground like he was a rag doll. It was -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. It was ridiculously sexy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s making it hard for Emily to separate her feelings and behave appropriately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You keep looking at me,” Lindsey accuses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily can feel her cheeks flush, can feel the heat creeping up her throat. “Sorry, ma’am,” she mumbles. It’s more a reminder to herself than anything, but Lindsey frowns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emily.” The word is scolding and surprised all in one. “You don’t have to call me ma’am. Remember?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She does. She remembers, but all that information does when she remembers the strength that Lindsey had shown in the alley is make her a little lightheaded. She nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across the fire Ash murmurs low into Ali’s ear, and Ali’s giggle rings out loud and clear. There’s a loudness, a crassness to their new travelling companion, and Emily can tell that it bothers Christen, but she can’t help but admire it. She envies the freeness of her speech, the way she isn’t scared to touch Ali, to flirt openly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Wall! Is there any more wine left in that bottle beside you?” Ash calls out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey looks down, then nods. “Yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Toss it over, would ya?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s that, too. The way she has this nickname for Lindsey that makes Lindsey’s cheeks flush. The way she so easily talks to her, to all of them, as if the stations they were born into don’t matter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something under the envy there, when it comes to Lindsey, and she doesn’t like to feel it, doesn’t want to admit it, so she covers it with a joke. Every time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did your legs stop working?” she teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just looking for more ways for Lindsey to show off her strength,” Ash shoots back, throwing in a wink at Lindsey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey’s cheeks flush darker in the firelight. She tosses the bottle towards Ash who catches it easily and offers a cheeky grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali raises an eyebrow, leans in and murmurs something low in Ash’s ear, and Ash’s full attention turns back to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jealousy tries to curl cold tendrils around Emily’s chest, but she ignores it. Lindsey is beautiful, and somebody should tell her. It will never be her. Even now. Even in this new dynamic, Emily knows that much to be true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re staring again.” Lindsey’s voice is more amused than accusing, and for a moment, just a single sliver of time, Emily lets herself imagine that Lindsey welcomes her gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t indulge longer, though, dropping her eyes to the dancing flames of the fire. “Sorry,” she mumbles. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You must be magnetic,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thinks, but her tongue dares not speak the words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey’s elbow is warm when it nudges hers, her body shifted closer. There’s hardly any change to the space between them, yet suddenly Emily can focus on nothing else. Breathing feels like a chore, as if, if she were to breathe in too deeply, it would make the space between them too dangerously small. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you want more of the wine?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily shakes her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you feeling okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Emily replies, but the squeak in her voice betrays her. She clears her throat and tries again. “Fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a funny one, Emily.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Such simple words, and yet they burn through her like fire. She smiles as stunning blue eyes study her face. “I try,” she jokes, biting back the “ma’am” that wants to follow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had better try to get some rest. More endless travel tomorrow with no destination in mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To rescue Tyler,” Emily replies, feeling the absence of Lindsey beside her acutely as she stands, the space between them suddenly vast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. Are you...going to try to sleep soon, too?” Lindsey asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily shakes her head, keeps her gaze on the fire. She doesn’t trust herself to go lay down beside Lindsey right now. Not when her fingers are itching to reach out, when her tongue is threatening to let words best left unspoken spill out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not tired yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Not quite.” It’s a lie. Her body is dragging, the day’s travel taking its toll, but it’s an easy lie to overcome. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. All right. Goodnight, Emily.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Lindsey.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A warm body plops down beside her, but she doesn’t react. She knows who it’s not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do believe she wanted your company.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not funny, Tobin.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wasn’t trying to be, Sonnett.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily looks up and meets brown eyes that always seem like they’ve just seen too much. This time, they’re mistaken. “How much of that wine did YOU have?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not enough to be seeing things, sadly.” Tobin’s reply is steady. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you have Christen to bother?” Emily asks, rather than focus on the implication of Tobin’s words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin smirks. “She told me to go bother someone else. And to think, I was just leaning against that tree over there and observing the clouds rolling towards us in the distance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily tenses, her mind going first to the horses, and then to the travelers that will ride them. “A storm is coming?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suspect it will be upon us by tomorrow nightfall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily sighs. “Then perhaps I should get to sleep after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps we’ll find some refuge by the time it hits,” Tobin suggests. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Lightning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The storm hits and tensions among the group run high.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Halloween week everyone. I hope you're all enjoying this story! xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There is no refuge to be had when the storm arrives. While the rain that had plagued them in the early days of their travel had been light if persistent, this rain falls in big, heavy drops, hammering onto heads, seeping into clothes, flooding the paths and making the going even slower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As miserable as the weather is, the party’s mood is somehow worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even Ash has stopped hitting on everyone by the time they decide to stop for the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a small overhang of rock that does little but give them false hope that they might be protected from the driving rain, but the wind ensures that they continue to stay soaked. Still, Tobin gathers some firewood, Emily at her side, wordless, eyes downcast, shoulders slumped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have more sugar cubes for the horses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily perks up slightly at that, but Tobin knows that that is only half of what weighs on her mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey has been especially unpleasant company since the rain began to fall, and Emily has borne the brunt of it by virtue of often being the closest to her. Each comment has been snapped, each inconvenience treated as if it’s a mountain rather than a molehill. Emily is, of course, most inclined to take it personally as well, but only because she is too oblivious to see what is right in front of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wood is heavy with water making it both hard to carry and unlikely that it will light. She finds some dry-ish straw and produces some of the moss that catches easily from her satchel, keeping the fact that her supply of it is dwindling to herself. She knows, too, that the further north they travel, the less likely she is to find more. It’s not a worry that anyone else needs tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash provides some oil and even still everything is so soaked through that each hint of a spark is extinguished before anything can light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, you can’t get a fire going tonight? Have we finally reached the limit of your skills?” Christen asks, her tone mocking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They can’t handle the weather. None of them. Tobin knew it before they started. They aren’t built for a trip like this, and now they’re dragging her down, getting under her skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to give it a go, Princess?” she shoots back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do not act like I have contributed nothing to this trip so far,” Christen replies, her voice cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like the tendency to boss others around and a lack of any actual concrete plan?” She shouldn’t goad her like this, she knows, but God himself couldn’t start a fire in this wetness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thunder rumbles in the distance, a sign that the storm raging around them is far from over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see you coming up with any concrete plans.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course her faithful friend steps in to defend her. “Wouldn’t want the Princess to speak for herself. Good thing she has you around, Ali.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, lay off of Ali,” Ash protests, but Tobin glares. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She should have let them go off and fend for themselves. She would be so much further on her travels if she was, and her passage would be far more inconspicuous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have plans, I just need more information,” Christen pipes up. “And I am more than capable of speaking for myself, thank you very much. And may I remind you that you volunteered to come along? Nobody made you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, clearly mistakes were made all around. But you wouldn’t have made it two days without me. The first time you couldn’t make a fire, you’d have gone running back to your father’s estate to let him handle things.” She can’t help but mock her. She can see it so clearly, a tired and wet Christen sheepishly returning like a dog with its tail between its legs, asking her father for help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Electricity crackles in the air around them. Where moments ago a chill had permeated the air, now there is a heat to it, a humidity, uninvited and unwelcome. Thunder booms closer and Lindsey jumps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily is lingering on the periphery, eyes darting from one person to another through the gloom. Tobin can sense both her want to jump in and her indecision on whose side to take. It only serves to frustrate her more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali moves in front of Christen, her eyes narrowed at Tobin, but her hands reaching back for her friend. “Christen.” There’s an urgency to her voice that Tobin can’t place the reason for. A moment later a finger is being jabbed at her chest, sharp and bony. “You need to BACK OFF!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin glares right back at Ali. She doesn’t let herself be pushed back. She doesn’t give an inch. “You all would have been lost if I hadn’t come along!” she declares. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re all lost anyway,” Lindsey mumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ENOUGH!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A burst of lightning rushes from the sky as Christen yells, but it doesn’t sink into the ground, it runs right to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin panics for a moment, and then -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen’s hands glow white. There is a hum and a crackle as the lightning envelopes them, circling around them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin feels as if she is watching in slow motion as the living energy spikes around her and then into the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between them, the small fire lights up with a dramatic </span>
  <em>
    <span>whoomph</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey looks petrified, confusion is etched across Ash’s face, and awe across Emily’s. Ali and Christen look stunned, but unsurprised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin takes only a split second to catch up to current events though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have magic,” she breathes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey recoils at the mere mention of the word, and Christen resembles a deer caught in headlights, her gaze matching Tobin’s as if unable to look away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Magic. A rare gift. Or a curse, if legend is to be believed, and certainly society has shunned those with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her father’s overprotectiveness, her best friend’s instant distrust. It all makes sense now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Tobin has her own secrets to keep. She understands the urge, the need. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes flicker to the fire. The wood dried by the magical lightning is catching quickly now and she would do well to add another, damper log to try to keep it going. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Magic? You’re a- a-” Lindsey finds her voice but not for long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin redirects before judgment can be passed. “Well, look at that, we have a fire now. Nice work, Princess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She notices the way that Christen’s shoulders relax, ever so slightly. “You’re welcome, Wanderer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin shoots her a grin. Maybe they are not as hopeless as she had thought. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Turmoil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lindsey has trouble handling Christen's revelation and her own growing feelings for Emily.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>First of all: it's election day in the US, so if you are of legal voting age and registered and have not yet done so: GO VOTE!!!!! <br/>Secondly, my anxiety is super high, I've got a miserable cold, I'm waiting on COVID test results for a family member, and, you know, the state of democracy in the country I live in is very well what's at stake today, and on top of that I have another family member who is likely on his deathbed this week, so if you find it in you to brighten my day with a comment, that would be greatly appreciated. <br/>Stay safe and stay healthy. <br/>xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“But she’s a witch!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she shouldn’t be quite so alarmed by this. Christen has only ever shown herself to be a friend to her, to be thoughtful and caring. The simple way that she had taken care of Michael when he arrived injured should be enough to sway her, and yet -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels betrayed. How many of her actions were simply to allay suspicion? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now Christen is keeping her distance, whispering with Ali, casting glances her way. What other powers does she possess? What else will she do with it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if the lightning hadn’t gone into the ground and lit a fire? What if it had gone straight into them? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if this trip hadn’t been dangerous enough, now her travelling companions are a potential threat as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s kind of more just a person with magic,” Emily counters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily is not nearly alarmed enough. In fact, she seems to believe it’s useful. She seems almost in awe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s been asking Christen all sorts of questions, sitting near her around the fires at night, urging her horse a little faster so that she can partake in conversations with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey hates it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s never been taught except for what she’s taught herself. Her father always made her hide it,” Emily continues conversationally, as if they’re talking about something as mundane as someone’s embroidery skills. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As he should have. She’s lucky he didn’t send her away at the first signs of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily frowns. “But he loves her. She’s just herself. She was born with it. Why should she be punished for it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey glares. She doesn’t understand why everyone else seems to have accepted this new knowledge as if it’s fine. It is not fine. It is far from fine. “Then why was she hiding it from us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily’s gaze turns towards the ground. She bites her lip and her fingers fiddle with the saddle. She looks sheepish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realization dawns slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think it’s because of me. Because I have the brains to realize that it’s potentially dangerous. You think that she kept it secret because she knew we might react like this. Well, I am reacting like this, and I don’t feel bad about it!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She clicks at her horse and digs her heel in, urging her into a trot. Her lie hangs in the air behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She does feel bad. She feels miserable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The storm might have left them, but she feels like she’s still stuck inside it while everyone else has moved on. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need more information. I say we go into the next town and ask around. We’re nearing the border, and someone is apt to have heard something. Right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey watches from the outskirts of the circle around the fire. She doesn’t feel like being social tonight. She’s longed for a concrete plan since the early days of this mission, but now she has no interest in one. She should have stayed at home. She should have kept Emily with her. She should have -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Tyler a witch too?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All eyes turn to her. Tobin and Ash look almost amused. Emily’s expression is flushed with embarrassment. Ali glares. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen, on the other hand, looks thoughtful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey’s cheeks heat up under her steady gaze. She hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but it’s been weighing on her mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it matter?” Christen asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words “Of course it matters” are on the tip of her tongue, pushing to escape, but she holds them back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you deem her not worthy of being saved if she has magic running through her veins?” Christen continues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey blushes deeper. Her whole body feels hot despite the chill in the night air. She doesn’t reply. How can she? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If she only uses her magic to help people, would that matter? Or would the sin of being born different be enough to condemn her? Would something that she has no say in alter your view of her humanity so fully?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallows hard, her head swimming. She hasn’t - Those thoughts have never - Of course she’s still - That’s not what she meant at all, it’s just -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does not every life have value?” Christen’s voice stays steady, stays low. There is no anger there, but her words are pointed all the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels as if everyone around the fire is holding their breath, waiting for her response, five pairs of eyes focused on her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it does,” she whispers, voice barely audible above the crackling of the fire. “I didn’t mean -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen turns away abruptly. “Good. Well, then, next town? Or do we wait until we’re across the border?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like that everyone is breathing again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels a sweaty hand, hot but comforting, slip into hers and give it a squeeze. When she raises her gaze, Emily is offering her a small smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Border towns on both sides will be full of information, and full of people willing to provide it, for a price,” Tobin replies. “But I suggest we don’t all go in. We’re far too conspicuous as a group.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Agreed,” Ash says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey lets out a shuddering breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s still her.” The words are whispered into her ear, breath falling hotly against her cheek, almost tickling her skin. She tries not to think about the way that Emily has had to shift closer to converse with her. It seems inappropriate somehow given the tone of the previous conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it’s true. The Christen who she departed with is the same one who just stared her down. She could see it, but, more than that, she could feel it. It had never occurred to her before that those with magic had no choice in the matter. They are born with it as much as she was born without. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen, who has always been a friend to her, who offers bright smiles, who cares enough for her sister to risk her own life to save her -- She is a human with cares and wants and needs the same as everyone else. Perhaps it is those who so freely dole out judgment that are the problem. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plans are made, friends volunteered, all while Lindsey ruminates with her thoughts. It feels as if the world has been opened to her anew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is late and she is exhausted by the time she stands to make her way to her bed for the night. It is only then that she realizes Emily’s hand is still in hers. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Followed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ali, Ash, and Tobin attract more attention in town than they mean to.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you everyone for the lovely feedback yesterday. I thought that maybe others besides myself needed an escape into fiction today, so here's a bonus chapter to help us deal with the election stress. I know it's not just those in the US following this closely. I'm hoping for the best and bracing for the worst. <br/>xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Do we honestly think it’s a good idea to leave those two alone together?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali shrugs. She doesn’t. She’s anxious, on edge, and she doesn’t think it’s because they’re heading into town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why we left Em. She’ll make sure they don’t kill each other. She respects Christen too much and she’s too in love with Lindsey,” Tobin replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash laughs, but Ali only manages a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh thank fuck I’m not the only person who’s noticed that!” Ash’s laugh is loud and warm, and it makes Ali smile a little wider. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not like anyone Ali’s ever met before. She’s crass and up front, always speaking what’s on her mind whether it should be said or not, but Ali is never left wondering about her intentions as a result. And then when they sit by the fire at night, or lay out under the stars, she is poetic in her praise to a point that Ali cannot stay unaffected. She knows now why so many women before have fallen into bed with Ash. She feels her own defenses wearing away quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The town is a decent size and the market is bustling. All around there is a buzz of conversation, a mingling of aromas some more complimentary than others. It’s the hallmarks of civilization that they get far too few tastes of these days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash splits off to haggle with the butcher for some fresh meat. Tobin stalks off without explaining where exactly she’s headed, leaving Ali to buy some vegetables and a few basic supplies. Her boots, for instance, are wearing through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles broadly at each booth, asking questions here and there. “Oh, are those fresh? Where do you grow them? Oh, is that across the border? I’m thinking about travelling that way, have you heard any news from up there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tries to space them out, tries not to press when people don’t give her an answer, when they seem to blow off her questions. She doesn’t want to draw attention to herself. She is a stranger in a strange place and she understands the urge to distrust. She hopes that if she spends enough money at the right stall, she’ll find out what she’s looking for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sees Ash at a weapon’s stand and starts to approach, but stops in her tracks. Ash is leaning across the counter, hand on the vendor’s arm, batting her eyelashes. The body language is unmistakable. Ash is flirting with the woman behind the counter. And if the almost dreamy look on her face is any indication, the woman is about ready to offer herself to Ash, free of charge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s one thing when Ash is free with the compliments in camp. It’s amusing, even, the way she makes Lindsey blush when she calls her beautiful. There is nothing funny in the slightest about this, however. Nothing funny about the way that Ash reaches out and tucks a curl behind the woman’s ear. The way her voice is low and the woman giggles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. This is -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sets her jaw, takes purposeful steps, and when her hip bumps into Ash, knocking her forward,, forcing her to catch herself in a way that lacks all grace, she does so with a wry smile on her lips. “Oh, sorry,” she says, as if to a stranger, catching Ash’s eye as she does so. Without another look back she heads off to the stout man selling aged cheeses. She knows that Christen would kill for a good cheese right about now, after all, and she is actually a good friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She is maybe four vendors on, and about done with her list, though nowhere near done with her questions because nobody seems to have any quality answers, when she feels a firm hand on her back, guiding her away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s about to smack it away, to give the owner of the hand a piece of her mind, when Ash murmurs in her ear, “Time to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali stops, planting her feet, not willing to go anywhere without further explanation. “Mad I caught you flirting earlier?” she challenges. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash smiles brightly over Ali’s shoulder, and Ali notices the way her eyes dart from side to side. It’s enough to take her out of her head and aware of her surroundings. She doesn’t notice anything, but it’s clear that Ash does as she leans in and says, “I’m so sorry, dear. Can we go home and I’ll make it up to you? I promise?” It’s said louder than necessary, which puts Ali’s senses on high alert. It isn’t being said for her benefit but for someone else’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She plays along, setting aside her earlier jealousy in a bid for self-preservation. “Always a charmer,” she shoots back, her feet maybe a touch too quick as she starts moving again, but Ash’s strong arm around her keeps her upright as she trips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali thinks perhaps, in the periphery of her vision, that she catches sight of someone lurking, watching, but when she angles her head, commenting on a vendor they pass as an excuse to look that way, the man is gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tobin?” Ali asks, her voice low. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already heading out,” Ash assures her. Louder she adds, “Come on, babe, I’m not sure how long I can wait to get you into bed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Under normal circumstances her words might serve to turn Ali on, but instead it serves its purpose of making her walk faster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash guides her around a corner, then another, back in the direction they’ve come from. She isn’t sure where they’re headed precisely, but she hopes that Ash has an idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve rounded another corner, when Ash pins her against a wall. “You know what, baby? I can’t wait until we’re home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she can absorb the words, before she can react, Ash’s lips are on hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment she gets lost, all sounds from the nearby market melt away, the only thing real is the soft lips pressing against hers. Ash’s lips part and Ali can’t resist, doesn’t want to as their tongues meet, as she feels her body give in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there’s something hard being pushed into her abdomen, and she reaches between them instinctively to feel it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Present for you,” is breathed against her lips, and then they’re kissing again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali’s hand closes on something hard, polished wood maybe, or stone perhaps. It’s cool to the touch and weighted, with grips for her fingers and -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hilt. She’s been handed a weapon, though what exactly she can’t be sure. It’s not too big. Nothing more than a dagger or knife, but a weapon nonetheless. Ash ranks the danger high enough to warrant her being armed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali kisses back fiercely, moans when Ash leans in harder, hand cupping her ass. She does her best to push this act they’re selling of a couple in love with libidos out of control. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Ash kisses down her throat, she turns her head, lets her eyes open, takes in their surroundings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clear from this side,” she murmurs low. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash kisses back up, pins her again, kisses across her cheek, flicks a tongue across her ear, and whispers, “I think they bought it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there is space between them, seemingly cavernous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali breathes heavily, her body swaying slightly at the absence of pressure from Ash, and she looks down at the knife in her hand. The handle is indeed polished wood with a metal inlay, carefully engraved in an intricate design. The blade, when she unsheaths it, is sharp and well-balanced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like it?” Ash asks with a grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like its new owner,” Ash replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali can’t stop the grin from spreading across her face even as she shakes her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should move on in case they circle back,” Ash advises, back to business. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They meet Tobin just beyond the small lake outside the walls of the town. She’s lurking in the reeds, and practically makes Ali jump when she silently joins them. The woman needs to wear a bell, she thinks, although, she admits to herself as Ash and Tobin check behind them, perhaps not right in this moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Conversation as they make their way back to their camp in the small woods is sparse, all of them still on edge, all vigilant. Tobin breaks off from time to time either to scout ahead or double back to make sure they’re not being followed. Ash stays at her side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they approach camp and there is still no sign of anyone, Ali begins to relax. Ash, too, if the heavier fall of her footsteps is anything to go by. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen spots them first, pacing near the edge of the clearing, and calls out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve made it back. They’re safe. They were able to elude whatever danger lurked in the town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali breathes out in relief, rushes towards her, eager to fill her in, to get moving, to put distance between the town and them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All relief vanishes in an instant as a tall man, hood shadowing his face, steps from the darkness of the trees into the clearing, an axe in one hand and a knife in the other. Around the clearing more armed men appear, some only evident by the arrows drawn back in their bows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not quite as careful as you thought, loves.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Standoff</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The group faces off against the men who've followed them.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello all! Thank you for the lovely comments and well wishes. Some updates for everyone: the covid test we were waiting on finally came back negative (woohoo!), i think all of you know how the election turned out (thank GOD!), and sadly the relative who was on death's door has now passed. Last week was a lot of waiting for me, but things now at least feel resolved. <br/>Anyway, here is the next chapter with a good dose of excitement.  Hopefully everyone can follow the action just fine. <br/>xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There’s a hum in the air. It’s low. She’s learned long ago that she’s the only one around that can hear it. It’s the energy, natural, everywhere, that pervades the world. She feels it always, but most of the time she can ignore it. Most of the time it leaves her alone and she doesn’t engage. Sometimes it’s harder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she’s upset it always comes, whether she calls it or not, though it’s not always strong, not always out of control. When she’s scared, well, that’s a different story. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels it now, threading through her fingers. She does the tricks she’s learned. She can’t let this moment get out of control. She can’t. Not with so many friends so close. She got lucky the other night. She breathes in, calm, calculated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice betrays none of her nerves. That’s good. That’s control. Tyler would be proud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heard your friends asking questions around town, love. Sounds like you’re the ones who want something,” the man holding an axe and a knife replies. He is the one calling the shots. She wonders how many of them would disperse if he were taken out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen doesn’t look to her friends. She doesn’t trust her temper to stay calm. Not if she sees fear in Ali’s eyes. Or Emily’s. Or even Lindsey’s. She keeps her eyes trained on the man. Not his weapons, but him, though she’s aware of every movement he makes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The movements ripple in the air, generating their own energy, and she can feel that too when her senses are heightened like this. She doesn’t know yet if she can use it, if she can target it. She’s not sure she dares try. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yet we’re not the ones drawing weapons on people,” Christen counters. “So what do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s funny, you know. I’ve heard the name Press before today. Seems to carry weight,” the man says. His tone is almost conversational, but the way that he tosses his axe in the air and catches it, showing off his skill, his confidence with his weapon, is nothing but a clear threat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Interesting assumption,” she replies, her tone flat. She feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, feels the energy being drawn to her. She’s on the verge of losing control, but she can’t. She can’t risk it. Not now. She breathes in deeply, pushing the breath out slowly through her nose, nostrils flaring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s not an assumption, love. See, I’ve got a gift, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A gift?” she echoes, her skepticism evident in her voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right.” The man offers a smile that might be charming under different circumstances. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of the corner of her eye, Christen can see Tobin inching sideways, the movements subtle. She’s looking for a better position. Christen wonders how long it would take her to draw her bow, how many shots she might be able to get off before the men reacted. She knows Tobin’s accuracy. She’s seen that in action already. If she can hit a squirrel in dense woods, she won’t miss the men surrounding them, clearly visible in their threat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, I read people. I can tell, right? When they’re important. I can tell,” he continues, leaning closer, his grin turning smug, “when someone is apt to pay a lot of money for them. You know what I mean, don’t you, love.” He nods towards Ash. “Help us out and we’ll cut you in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen watches her face, sees her calculating. There’s a bow aimed right at her, the tip of the arrow likely poking her in the back, but she doesn’t seem bothered by it. Christen’’s about to redirect, unease about the situation beginning to overtake her nerves, but Ash shakes her head. “Nah, I’m good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash moves quickly, rolling in towards the arrow and throwing an elbow which connects with the archer’s nose with a sickening crunch. The arrow is let loose, flying wide and high, and then all hell breaks loose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man with the axe takes a swing at Christen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dodges, feels the energy welling up around her. It’s not visible yet, but she can feel it, gathering around her fists, there for her to pluck if she chooses (or if she loses control). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re outnumbered, love!” the man declares, taking a stab with the knife in his other hand. The blow glances off Christen’s arm, slicing at the fabric of her shirt, but only nicking her skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has no weapons on hand. None that she is willing to use, anyway. So she throws a punch, focuses her energy. It lands on his shoulder, glancing at best, and now he’s close. Close enough that she narrowly avoids a swipe of the knife to her side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Around her chaos reigns. She can barely make out where her friends are. It’s hard to tell who has the edge in any given moment. Lindsey and Emily seem to be working together to take on a large man with a club. Ali is struggling against a man with a bow, wielding a knife of her own. Ash has managed to get the best of a few men, but there are more facing her now. Tobin is dancing in and out of shadows, letting off shots. Arrows fly across the clearing in all directions, and it’s hard to tell if any of them are making their mark. The horses near the edge of the clearing are spooked. She should set them free, let them escape at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dodges another blow from the axe, ducks back behind their makeshift shelter, only to see a blade stabbed through it, slicing down through the fabric. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s breathing faster, her heart is racing, and she can feel herself losing control. She can feel the energy turning into a powder keg. If she blows, there is no way there won’t be collateral damage. She moves away, slips towards the trees, but an arrow makes her divert. It passes close enough that she can hear it whistle past her head. She dodges right and left, trying to keep her eyes on everything and everyone, but a firm hand grabs her elbow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She jams it backwards and is rewarded by a heavy gasp as it connects with someone’s stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the man with the axe yells, “ENOUGH!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence settles and Christen turns, dreading what she might see. The man with the axe is now axeless, but he has Tobin in a firm grip, his knife to her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin’s eyes are narrowed, her jaw set. She appears more angry than scared, but Christen — </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen can feel her heart racing, she can feel the energy tightening into balls. In front of her she begins to see red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are going to come with us, nicely,” the man is saying, but she barely registers it. Her gaze is focused on the knife at Tobin’s throat. It’s pressing in. She can see a slight trickle of blood, the way her skin is drawn in from the pressure of the blade. One wrong move and Tobin is no longer her travelling companion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closes her eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Control it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She feels the energy flowing, curling around her, amassing at her fingertips, and when she opens her eyes, she shifts her focus to the man. He’s left his side exposed, his arm up holding the knife to Tobin. If she’s careful, if she can control it, she can strike him and save Tobin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her heart is pounding in her ears, but she feels unnaturally calm as she raises her hand. She tells the energy to flow, to go straight, to not stray, channels it all through the tips of the fingers of her one hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sees the man’s eyes go wide, and then he’s on the ground, his clothes scorched, his weapon falling to the grass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin wastes no time. She picks it up, throws it past Christen and Christen hears it stick true in its intended target. Christen doesn’t dilly-dally either, and neither do the rest of her travelling companions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s given them the edge and they take full advantage. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a bit more scramble, but between those that have run away in fear and those that are too stunned to react quickly, they manage to subdue the rest. They bind them with some rope to the trees and leave quickly once Emily has managed to calm the horses. They’re mercifully uninjured from the fight and Christen thanks her lucky stars for that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They can’t stay, though. They dare not. Those that fled will carry with them the news of someone with magic, which means their danger level is much higher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they leave, Tobin takes up pace beside her. “Just so you know, I had it handled,” she informs Christen, that annoying smirk firmly in place on her face as she reveals a knife up her sleeve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen shakes her head, lets out a small laugh. She smirks right back. “You know, most people would just say thank you.” She nudges her horse to speed up and almost misses the quiet, “Thanks,” that follows after her. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Rest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The gang stops for a night's rest at a monastery. Some of them learn more than anticipated.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heads up for a hint of smut. Not for T and C, sorry. I hope everyone is staying sane, safe, and healthy. <br/>xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ash and Tobin scope out the monastery together. It’s not her first choice of accommodations, but they’ve been pushing hard. The horses need a proper stable for a night and they could all use a proper bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The monastery isn’t elaborate by any means, but the men seem pious, and their lack of abundance suggests that they are not in the habit of using their religion as a weapon to raise funds or power in the area. Hopefully that means that they’re not bribeable and are not apt to betray a group of young women in need of a safe place for a night or two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way that Lindsey is dragging and Ali and Christen seem on their last legs means that they’re going to have to risk it, and it’s far enough from the nearest town it offers some isolation. Even Ash is feeling the strain of days of nonstop travel and alertness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are welcomed politely and offered beds and foods. A young monk shows the horses to the stables and, after an especially intimidating look from Emily, nervously declares that, though he loves all of God’s creatures, the noble horse is his favorite and he shall care for them as if they are his own. An older man of few words and ample grey hair sticking out of his ears leads them to a set of rooms and urges them to rest as he pushes thick glasses up his nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The food is hot and sits more heavily in their stomachs than anything they’ve been able to scrounge up lately, and it’s not long before first Lindsey, then Christen, then Emily, and finally Tobin all retire for the night. Ash is content to drink her ale and sit inside, the roaring fire at the end of the dining hall keeping the room bright and warm. Ali sits beside her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They haven’t spoken about their kiss. They haven’t had a chance. There has been no privacy on the road, no moment they might have stolen to talk out of earshot of the others. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(In truth, they’ve barely had a chance to discuss the limited information they picked up in the marketplace before everything went awry.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash has replayed it often in her mind, something to keep her going, keep her motivated. She wants more, but she isn’t sure if she’s allowed to ask for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali is strong and beautiful and headstrong. She’s not like the other women that Ash has bedded. They have all been beautiful, for sure, but easily lead astray. Ali has her wits too much about her for that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thinks of a dozen different lines and discards them all before they can leave her mouth, instead, flicking her eyes between the rich, dark brown of Ali’s eyes and the amber of her ale. They make polite conversation with a few of the monks, not betraying much about themselves, until they are left alone, just the two of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s almost done with her drink when Ali finally stands, stretches and says, “I guess I’d better head to bed as well.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash gulps down her last swigs, almost choking, wiping her upper lip from the liquid that’s left there and pushing back her chair to stand in one swift motion. “Yeah. Yes. Me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Their steps fall slowly but heavily in the stone hallways, echoing behind them. They’re almost to their room when Ash feels warm fingers curling around her own, catching them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash lets Ali stop her, turns to face her, expecting conversation, expecting this tension that’s been lingering between them to finally be addressed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead she’s pressed into the cold stone wall, Ali’s lips fiercely on her own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gasps in surprise as Ali’s body presses into her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me, Ash,” Ali breathes into her mouth, “did you want to sleep alone tonight?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. She’s never had a woman be this forward with her. Normally she’s the one saying things like that, but, God, it’s so sexy. “No,” she assures her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels Ali smile against her throat. The word, “Good,” is pressed into her skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>However she envisioned this night would go, it doesn’t. Not that she’s complaining. Not in the slightest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali straddles her hips, breasts pale and beautiful, bouncing as she rides Ash’s fingers. The sight is mesmerizing. Ash slides her hand up a creamy thigh, over tensed abs, and cups one of Ali’s beautiful breasts, rolling the dark nipple between her finger and thumb, arching up as Ali gasps, moans, urges her on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” she whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali grins, smirks. “Not sure you should be swearing in a monastery, Ash.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash smirks back, curls her fingers, makes Ali moan loud enough to surely carry down the hallway a bit. “Not sure I should be doing any of this in a monastery, but I’m not about to stop. Are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali bears down on her, grinds against her waist, against her hand, urging Ash’s fingers deeper still. Her head falls back and her neck is exposed, smooth skin just begging to be kissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Ash adjusts, sits up, positions so that Ali can keep riding her fingers in her lap, and she presses open-mouthed kisses down tender, sensitive skin. She feels the vibration of the hums, the moans, the gasps as they ripple through Ali’s throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grazes her teeth against Ali’s collarbone, feels the way Ali’s fingers dig into her shoulderblades, fingernails surely leaving crescent shaped marks as she uses it for further leverage, bouncing in a steady rhythm matched by the thrusts of Ash’s straining wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Ali collapses against her a few minutes later, it is with a mark on her chest from Ash’s eager lips, and a few swears of her own. She still rocks her hips slowly, gasping as Ash removes her fingers, stretches out her wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Ali is kissing her, firm and hard and hot, her breath falling in heavy pants straight into Ash’s mouth as she promises, “Lie back, baby. It’s your turn.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash awakes to grey morning light and Ali twisted naked in her bedsheets, the pale expanse of her back exposed to the cool morning air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali awakes to a series of soft kisses pressed down her spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When they emerge it is late morning and a smirk from Tobin as well as a raised eyebrow from Christen inform them that their activities the previous night and this morning have not gone unnoticed by their companions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin has been busy this morning, it seems, though she appears well-rested. She has made conversation not only with the monks, but also journeyed a little ways and back to gather more information. She has brought back with her word of Christen’s sister. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is not much, and she warns that it might well be erroneous, but she has a more precise location. Her sister’s kidnapper is thought to have taken her west from where he grabbed her on her travels with her betrothed. He is also known to have a stronghold in the northwest of the Northern Territory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is likely that they are somewhere between the two points, though the likelihood of them taking a direct route when they are being tracked is unlikely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin has acquired a map of the Northern Territory from the monks and they spend much of the afternoon pouring over it, looking for likely trails, isolated places that would be conducive to making camp, and dangerous terrain to avoid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By supper time they have a vague plan. It is substantially more than they had before, at least, and it gives them a clear direction for the coming days. As they near the border, they will likely be able to learn more, and beyond that -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, the hope is that they will be able to either intercept or catch up to Tyler’s captors. The alternative is grim. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It is agreed that they will leave the next morning. Setting out in the dark, even when they’re better rested and their stomachs are full, feels like an unnecessary risk when they are temporarily safe, though Christen pushes for a sooner departure. Ash knows why. She understands, truly. Now that there is information, now that they have direction, she is eager to be on their way, to make up time, and to get to her sister. They have a mountain pass to travel between here and the border, though, and they would be wise to travel only in daylight hours. It is that point, and that point alone (and only coming from Ali), that calms Christen enough to convince her to stay the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As evening turns to night, the group is scattered, enjoying their last night of comfort for who knows how long. It is sheer luck (though she’s not sure if it is good or bad luck), that finds her chatting with Tobin near the dining hall as another traveller arrives, wet and weary from the road. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man pauses when he sees Tobin, his wire-rimmed glasses sliding down his broad nose as sharp blue eyes examine her. He shakes his head, his brown hair shedding drops of water as he does so, as if he’s telling himself he’s wrong, but then he looks again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tobin?” he asks. “Tobin Heath?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin stills, the smile that had been on her face, frozen and insincere. Ash doesn’t have to look too hard to see the dread etched in her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin half-turns to the man, as if she doesn’t want to look too directly at him, as if that might make him go away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought it was you, though you are leaner and taller than I last saw you!” the man declares. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Ashby,” she replies. “So nice to see a familiar face.” The words come through clenched teeth that give away her lie, but the man seems not to notice as he removes his cap and pushes up his glasses, his face bright and his smile eager. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tobin, my goodness!” he declares, pulling her into a hug that she does not return. Then his face turns serious. “I was so sorry to hear of the, uh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>misfortunes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that befell your family. Your brother especially…” He fades off, his lips pursed into a frown, his eyes focusing somewhere beyond Tobin now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash can feel the tension radiating off of Tobin, can tell that this is not something she has shared, is not something she WISHES to have shared. Questions are mounting in Ash’s brain, but Tobin’s reaction tells her it is best not to ask them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still,” Mr. Ashby continues with a shake of his head, his smile returning, “it is good to see you here, Tobin. Will you be staying a while? I am off to see the Conqueror’s Wall in the east, but I have a cousin here that I wanted to stop and see first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin forces a smile. “Sadly, I must be on my way early tomorrow. And as such, I must head to bed now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, yes, of course.” Mr. Ashby puts his soaking cap back upon his head. “And the dining hall is calling my name. Take care. Please send my greetings to your family the next time you —” He stops short, his cheeks coloring a bright pink as he realizes his words. “Oh, I suppose you won’t. Um, right, well, do take care, Tobin.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hurries away with the embarrassed gait of a man who realizes that he’s put his foot much too far into his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin does not watch him go. Instead she turns back to Ash, and Ash, for the first time, sees true fear on Tobin’s face. “Don’t tell the others,” Tobin says. “They do not need to know about my family.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash is tempted to point out that she herself doesn’t know much more than a last name and some misfortune, but she can tell that Tobin is already feeling far too exposed. Instead she nods. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She almost misses her, standing by the stairs, a book in hand, green eyes focussed on the two of them, Christen close enough that she surely overheard the entire interaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin does not notice her as she hurries off towards her room, clearly eager to get away from prying eyes lest anyone else should recognize her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash meets Christen’s gaze, sees the way her lips are drawn tight. They don’t say anything as they too head to their quarters, but Ash knows that Christen knows as much as she does. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Soldiers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Emily and Lindsey find out a bit more about the situation in the North and their feelings for each other become harder to fight.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The updates may start coming slower. I've almost caught up to my chapter buffer and my attention has largely been taken by other projects recently. On top of that my holiday baking is starting which eats up more free time. Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving to anyone celebrating! I hope you enjoy this chapter!<br/>xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Allenville is small. So small that by rights it should be able to exist without the interference of anyone save perhaps a local magistrate demanding taxes. Yet when Emily ventures into the village with Tobin for a few supplies, there is a soldier presence there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It makes them so uneasy that they leave without anything they came for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same thought, she knows, is running through both of their minds. Someone has sent people after them. Surely news of the woman with power has spread and that is who they are on the lookout for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is what they are all assuming. It’s part of why they never send more than two people at a time into a town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without the supplies that they had gone in search of, they are forced to stop in another day, a few towns on, this one bigger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time the soldier presence is greater, but if it is them that the soldiers are looking for, they do not have reliable information on them. They barely give them a second glance except for a group of soldiers who leer at Lindsey in a way that makes Emily want to cover her with a heavy cloak and spirit her away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is weird, right?” Lindsey asks as they move away from a shop where they’ve been able to pick up most of what they need. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily nods. “Very.” She steps closer to Lindsey as they pass what appears to be a patrol of soldiers. They don’t give them a second glance, but Lindsey certainly looks her way again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes drop to where their hands are bumping against each other as they walk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily feels the blood rush to her cheeks, knows she’s blushing. She should give Lindsey more space, move away, make sure she can’t touch her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except that Lindsey’s fingers curl around hers, and then they’re holding hands as they continue walking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not a tight hold. It’s pleasant, almost tentative. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is also distracting. Emily knows that she cannot let herself focus on it too much, knows that if she thinks about the contact for too long her palm will grow sweaty and unpleasant to hold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think we should try to find out more?” Emily asks, trying to focus on the soldiers, the implied danger. She hopes that Lindsey doesn’t notice the way the her voice squeaks. “Or head back to tell the others?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey’s fingers squeeze her own. “If we were to stop for a drink at a local alehouse, I don’t think it would be amiss. And if we overhear conversations while we’re there for one drink, that could only be helpful. Right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though her words sound confident, her eyes search Emily’s unsurely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds reasonable to me,” Emily agrees. And it does, to an extent, though she knows that her motivations are not solely about gathering information. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>A rowdy table near the windows seats a group of soldiers, so Lindsey and Emily are careful to pick seats at the far end of the bar, away from them. They’re given little attention as they enter, much to their relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barmaid is young and pretty with dark braids tied back into a bun, medium brown skin, and tired eyes. After watching her be crudely hit on by the third soldier in a row, Emily thinks that perhaps she has an opening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shame these soldiers won’t leave,” she says with a smile as the young woman turns her attention to them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman glances their way in disgust and nods in agreement. “I swear half of them only come here to try to get into my knickers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you water down their drinks in spite,” Emily replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman cracks a grin at that, looking more fully at Emily and Lindsey. She leans across the bar almost conspiratorially. “Don’t tell them, but I’m hoping that Warrior Princess their beef is with wins, to be honest.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily glances at Lindsey, who mouths “Warrior Princess?” back at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out loud, Emily replies, “I can see why.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barmaid continues, picking up a mug to dry, oblivious to their wordless exchange. “Ever since the trouble started, we’ve had more and more of them here. All the same. It’s worse up by the border, they say. I personally don’t see why it has to come into our territory at all. Let that baron keep his troops in his own province, I say. His only power is in wealth anyway. All these soldiers, for all their official military look, are simply bought and paid for. Guarantee if someone came along offering more money they’d jump allegiances in a heartbeat. Pathetic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily and Lindsey nod along as if they’re familiar with what’s being recounted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What can I get ya?” the barmaid asks as she sets down the now dry mug on a shelf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two pints of ale,” Emily answers quickly, hoping that Lindsey isn’t offended that she’s ordered for her. She’s eager to get back to the conversation about the soldiers, to see if they can learn more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barmaid nods and pours two pints, stopping to take another order from a bawdy soldier whose gut pouring over the top of his britches suggests that he spends far more time drinking than patrolling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” the barmaid says, lowering her voice and leaning in closer again after she’s set the mugs down in front of them, “they say that the Princess’s troops would follow her to the end of the earth out of loyalty. Don’t think they’d take the likes of him.” She gestures with her thumb to where the latest soldier is stumbling back towards his table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily giggles. “I sure wouldn’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right?” The barmaid stands, her smile brighter than before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um, these will be our only drinks. What do we owe?” Lindsey asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barmaid shakes her head. “On the house. Just for giving me a bit of conversation that doesn’t have to do with how good my tits look in this blouse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They do look nice, though, for what it’s worth,” Emily says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The barmaid laughs, waves her away, then, and turns to deal with other customers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily grins as she takes a sip of her ale, and then turns to Lindsey. Her grin falls as she takes in Lindsey’s eyes, staring at her, looking almost cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her tits look nice?” Lindsey asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. That wasn’t - She hadn’t meant it like that. She had been trying to make the woman’s day nicer. That was all. She’d just wanted to give her a laugh. She hadn’t thought about Lindsey beside her. She had barely thought about how Lindsey was so far above her station in weeks, and now she’d gone and said something so crude directly in front of her. It’s a good thing that she had essentially quit to come on this quest because if not she’d have been fired for sure. “I- I didn’t really look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey lifts her own mug and down several large gulps, wiping away the foam from her upper lip as she sets it back down. “Nicer than mine?” she asks, glancing down, pushing her shoulders together a bit to emphasize her cleavage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily can’t help but look, can’t help the way her eyes drop. “N-no. Yours are - You have very nice —” She swallows hard, feels her cheeks flushing. “I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful than you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, God. Has she really just said that? Her mouth feels dry and she feels vaguely nauseous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey, though, is smiling. She bites her lower lip and looks up at Emily through long lashes, those stunning blue eyes of hers boring into Emily as she asks, “Yeah?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily nods, at a loss for what else to say. It wasn’t a lie, and she fears that if she tries to take it back she’ll only make matters worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a few large swigs of her ale, trying to cool her burning cheeks and keep her mouth too occupied to say anything else stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She almost chokes when she feels Lindsey’s knee bump hers. She thinks perhaps it’s on accident, but then she dares to look back at Lindsey, sees the faint blush to her cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re beautiful too,” Lindsey blurts. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They finish their drinks quickly, casting shy glances at each other, both of them with cheeks flushed pink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily leaves a tip for the barmaid, and they head out with information to share, but no hurry to get there to share it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Emily who takes Lindsey’s hand this time as they near the edge of town. The trees are sparse around here, less full of leaves and more full of pine needles that soften the ground as they pass nearby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really think I’m beautiful?” Lindsey asks when they’re about halfway back to camp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily pulls her towards one of the trees, the trunk wide and the branches creating almost a private alcove beneath which Emily tugs Lindsey. Lindsey is giggling, her brows furrowed in confusion as she lets Emily lead her, and then Emily turns to face her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a deep breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Emily replies. “Not beautiful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sees Lindsey’s lips turn into a frown, sees her eyes grow sad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beautiful is an understatement. You’re stunning, Lindsey. I have thought it from the moment I met you, but this trip has only - “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cuts herself off, tries again, words fumbling around in her head, not coming out the way she wants them to at all. “You’re more than just beautiful. And every day that I get to spend more time with you -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. That’s too much. It sounds like she’s declaring love or about to ask for her hand in marriage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lindsey, you’re -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Lindsey isn’t listening anymore. Lindsey is pressing her lips to Emily’s soft and sweet and chaste, and Emily melts into the kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later Lindsey breaks away, looks at her with wild eyes, panting slightly. “We’d better get back. We need to tell the others what we’ve learned.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lindsey grapples with her own thoughts and feelings and the group learns some important realities of their situation and their quest.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have been really looking forward to posting this chapter. Please leave me some feedback of what you thought? Hope you're all staying healthy out there!<br/>xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She doesn’t mean to avoid Emily. Not really. Not for long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s kissed her now. She can’t hide that she doesn’t want to again, and what that means for her...Well, she’s not sure, really. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not sure what her brother would think, how her parents might react. They’re largely open-minded, really, to let her travel as much as they have they would have to be, and honestly after this quest they’re bound to look at her a little differently anyway, it’s just -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not sure she can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily. Emily Sonnett. Driver, keeper of her family’s horses, and...the one with which she wishes to pass her days? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except Emily isn’t those things to her anymore. Well, except for the last one, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It just feels like so many things are changing at once. Too many things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>First there’s her daily life, her expected comfort level, her…well, her wealth. Their funds and supplies are dwindling, she’s slept on the ground far more than in a bed, and hours that she once filled with reading or hiking or needlepoint is now filled with endless travel. A life once lived in comfort now spent on the edge of danger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there’s Christen. There’s her witchcraft and the idea that the perceptions she’s grown up with don’t seem to play out in the real world. If she was wrong about who Christen was, then wrong about what Christen having powers meant, what else might she have been wrong about? What else might her parents and the church have gotten wrong? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now Emily, too? These...feelings that have been growing inside her? This need to be near her all the time? This desire to talk to her, to touch her, to...well, kiss her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just a lot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Add in that they can’t pass within a mile of a town without seeing a soldier patrol now, and Lindsey just needs some space and time to think. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which would be substantially easier if Emily didn’t keep shooting her longing glances from across the fire in the evening. The kind of look that makes Lindsey want to go to her and wrap her in a tight embrace. The kind of look that makes Lindsey want to kiss her deeply over and over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just a lot. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Their supplies are running low. She’s not sure if they’re going through more because the weather is turning colder so they’re burning more energy, the treacherous pass through the mountains that has exhausted their food stores, or if limiting the trips into town so much, and how many of them can go, has meant that they just haven’t been able to stock up like they need. Either way, a two person trip isn’t going to cut it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They decide to risk a group trip, though they’ll stagger their arrival into two groups of three. Lindsey volunteers to go with Ali and Ash, who, while loud enough together at night that they’ve begun setting up camp a little ways away from the rest of them, also carry little baggage for Lindsey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They choose a village just across the border. The hope is two-fold: 1) that it is so small that soldiers won’t have been sent to patrol it and 2) that across the border the patrols might not be as vigorous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long at all to see how they’ve misjudged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where huts should be, the ground is scorched, in some places still smoking. Tents and other make-shift housing populate the area instead. What huts remain are near the woods, across a small stream. Where in other towns children have been playing outside, here they have hollowed eyes and cling to their mother’s skirts. This village, though small, seems like it has taken the brunt of the conflict in the region. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash takes her arm when she’s caught staring for too long, murmuring, “We’d best get what supplies we can and move on quickly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But supplies are going to be hard to come by, and what there is, Lindsey feels bad about taking. She can sense the reluctance in her companions as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They do their best to seem unrelated to each other, even though they have yet to see a patrol, but Lindsey can’t stop her gaze from flitting to familiar faces, trying to gather what sense of comfort she can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she nears the stream she sees an old woman beckon to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hair is white, her fair skin folded in deep wrinkles, and so frail as to appear almost see-through. She has a kind smile and offers up bread she has baked herself and a hot tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell your friends to come too, dear,” she instructs in a voice that cracks with age, but doesn’t waver with uncertainty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M-my friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your companions, yes,” she replies. She gestures around, picking out the rest of the six easily. “I have a story to share, dear, and I do believe they will all want to hear it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reluctantly she makes eye contact with Tobin and calls her over. The rest of the group, curious, approaches as well, finally settling near the old woman once she beckons to them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You six have travelled a long way, with a ways yet to go, am I right?” she says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin glares at Lindsey. “What did you tell her?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing!” Lindsey assures her. “Really! Nothing! She just...knew.” Suspicion hits her as she says that, but she can’t be sure. She might be wrong. She doesn’t want to throw out accusations like this without being certain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She speaks the truth. It is written on your faces, in the weary slouch of your backs, and it is heard in the neighs of the horses you tied up outside of town.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all exchange a look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And who are you, if I may ask?” Christen asks, stepping forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman’s blue eyes seem to twinkle as she takes Christen in. “Someone who has lived long enough to see it all and hear it all. But come, sit, let me tell you my tale and get you some tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a name so that we may properly thank you for your generosity?” Lindsey asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman grins at her, and there’s a glint in her eyes as she says, “You can call me Dawn.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She goes into her tent and emerges with the teapot from which she had poured Lindsey’s glass before and some cups, none of which match or appear to be the same size at all, but all of which will serve their purpose. She distributes the cups first, and then lifts the teapot and starts towards Ali, but she trips, and the teapot spills, the hot liquid inside falling onto the small fire and extinguishing it with a sizzle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh dear, oh clumsy me,” Dawn mutters to herself. She looks right at Christen and says, “Would you be a dear and get that going again for me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen frowns, but moves towards the fire, looking around for some rocks to strike or anything at all that she might use to light a spark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t be silly dear,” Dawn scolds as Christen reaches for a rock. “You know a quicker way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey freezes. Around her she can feel her companions tension radiating off of them. Christen, to her credit, barely flinches. Instead she holds Dawn’s gaze and offers a forced smile. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dawn rolls her eyes, opens the teapot, holds out her hand, and with a turn of her wrist, drops of water begin to form, drawn out of the air itself, then binding together into a stream of water that flows straight into the teapot. “I would love to heat this water up to make you more tea, dear, but it’s quite difficult without a fire. Unless you think you could heat the teapot without blowing it up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another woman with magic. This one old, part of a community, given the chance to live, and clearly not putting too much effort into hiding. Lindsey thinks that she should be scared, should be suspicious, but Dawn has given her no reason to feel that way, just as Christen never had until Lindsey had seen her do magic. She feels the hints of her prejudice pricking at her mind and she shoves them away. She glances to the others and sees expressions of awe and surprise. At least her shock is not due to her learned bias. Her shock she shares with her friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t look so surprised, dear,” Dawn says. “I can sense it in you. Could feel you coming before you made it into town. It’s why I had the water hot to begin with.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen looks around, sees that the villagers that are nearby are minding their own business, then turns back to Dawn and focuses on the small fire pit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey watches, feeling more curious than tense, as Christen closes her eyes and stretches out her fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With wide eyes, Lindsey watches as light begins to circle her hands, bright and electric, and when Christen opens her eyes, she is able to shoot it straight at the half-charred logs. A flame crackles to life, and Dawn smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are learning control. Well done. It comes in time you know, but please. Sit all of you. I have a story to tell and information you need.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dawn paints a picture of a village ransacked by troops that take without asking and travel through to towns that matter more. She tells them stories shared by other weary travellers of riders in the north who liberate towns only for wealth and greed to enslave them once more. She speaks of the Baron, driven by a desire for power above all else, who threatens to take over the north and enact a treacherous rule upon all in the province, one who even still will not be satisfied and will strive for more, bringing war to the world if given the chance. She tells tales of a Princess without a throne who wields a sword better than most men. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Between them is caught a woman. The Baron’s betrothed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen’s eyes go wide. “Tyler!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that her name?” Dawn asks, waving her hand dismissively. “She is but a pawn, I fear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen purses her lips and Lindsey can’t help but reach out to her, imagining if it was her brother in Tyler’s place how she might feel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Baron wants, Christen, what you and I have. He is not a fool, and he knows that if he has us, or those we love, that he can use us. Though he gives off the air of charm, he is cold and calculating, and as such, has sent Seekers, his special guard, in search of those with magic. When they hear tell of us, they investigate. If they find us, they take us, and once the Baron gets ahold of us...Well, I confess I would rather not know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey can feel the chill that runs through Christen from where her hand rests on Christen’s knee. They had suspected she might be hunted before, but only from using magic on the men who had attacked them. To have confirmation that she might actually be in graver peril than they’d known must be terrifying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet Christen sits tall, her shoulders squared, her head held high. “You are safe,” Christen says. It is half question, half statement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dawn smiles sadly. “Alas, not for long. Best be on your way, children. Your journey is long and my time is up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey follows Dawn’s gaze through the village to where a group of soldiers, these tidier than others they’ve seen, armor more polished, with a blue band on their arms are spreading out in an organized manner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christen, we should go.” Tobin’s voice is urgent, tense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen surveys the situation, but doesn’t make to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chris -” Ali tries. “We can’t get caught.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t leave her,” Christen replies, climbing to her feet as the soldiers, quick in their search, move closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It won’t be long before they spot them. It won’t be long before they come for the woman. And if they have any word of Christen’s powers, she will be in danger too. A band of ruffians in the woods they might be able to take, but a dozen well-trained soldiers? Even with magic on their side, Lindsey doesn’t like their odds. The element of surprise had been their friend before, but these soldiers would be expecting magic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t stay,” Ali argues. “We have to get to Tyler. We have to save her. We can’t do that if you’re carted away.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s right,” Lindsey volunteers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin, also now on her feet and apparently done with the discussion, makes a grab for Christen’s hand, starts to drag her away towards the woods. Ash and Ali follow quickly, but Emily hesitates, and Lindsey can’t seem to force her feet to move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tobin, no!” Christen protests, breaking her hand free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Christen, this isn’t a game!” Tobin is arguing, and Lindsey sees the soldiers taking notice, sees them tune into the commotion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels like it’s happening in slow motion as the soldiers near the area and notice Dawn, still sitting calmly by the fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen is heading back, despite attempts from Ali, Ash, and Tobin to stop her, but Lindsey focuses only on the soldiers, moving quickly now, converging on her location. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the order of Baron Hansen, you are coming with us, witch!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before the soldier has finished his sentence, Lindsey is on her feet, stepping forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not sure what’s come over her. She has no chance at winning this fight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Dawn has shared not only food and warmth, but wisdom freely. She has sent them on their way better informed without regard for herself. Lindsey cannot let them take her. Not this frail old woman with a glint in her eye. Magic is not a power that all should have, surely, but Lindsey can see that this woman, like Christen, can be trusted with it. Baron Hansen, she has no doubt, should not be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Her voice is strong, stronger than she’d expected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldiers stare her down. Some of them chuckle. The one who seems to be in charge peers down his nose at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she replies. “She isn’t coming with you at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Move aside, girl. This doesn’t concern you. You don’t want to get in the middle of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will not move and you will not take her,” Lindsey declares, but this time her voice wavers. She can see the glint of their swords, see their sturdy build beneath their armor. These men will not be scared off by her words and she has little else to intimidate them with. “What is he paying you?” she asks. “My father will pay more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time there is more laughter and Lindsey feels her cheeks grow hot. Someone loops their arm through hers, and when she glances to the side, she is relieved to see it is Emily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You heard her. Get lost. You’re not taking her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldier in charge steps forward menacingly. “Move aside, little girls, or you won’t like what happens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey juts out her chin, Emily’s presence at her side boosting her confidence and says, “No,” staring the soldier right in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushes the two of them aside, Lindsey falling to the dirt, pain shooting through her knee as she lands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“HEY!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time it is Christen’s voice that rings out loud and strong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hands off my friends!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldier rounds on her, a sneer on his face and challenges, “Or what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey looks up, sees Tobin backing away, shaking her head, sees Ali start to cry out, “No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she sees the glow around Christen’s hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want a witch, soldier boy? Come and take her. But the old woman stays here.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chase</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tobin has trouble handling Christen being captured.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've got 2 more after this and then updates are apt to slow way down. Sorry.<br/>Enjoy. x</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“We have to get her back!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We will,” Ash sighs. “But not with you like that. Let her fix you up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin glares, feeling the wound in her head. She flinches at the ache her touch causes, and frowns at the blood that comes away on her fingers. She can feel it trickling down past her ear. She knows it won’t stop easily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve wasted enough time with me being unconscious,” Tobin growls. Her memory of Christen being taken is foggy. She knows Christen was able to incapacitate a few soldiers. She knows she landed a solid blow with an arrow on one. There were plenty others, though, and Tobin remembers little else before the world went dark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much more time will we waste when you get lightheaded and pass out. Let Dawn tend to you. She worked wonders on my arm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin sighs, looks at the old woman with the gleaming blue eyes that make Tobin uneasy, make her feel like she sees too much. As much as she wants to get going, she knows that Ash is right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dawn beckons to her, pats the smooth rock beside her, and Tobin plops down, the world spinning only slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me see,” Dawn says, and Tobin turns her head compliantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dawn’s hands are surprisingly soft, not leathery like Tobin expects, and they’re warm. No, more than warm, almost hot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmmm,” Dawn hums as she examines the wound, touches it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Tobin feels wetness against her head, soothing, cool, a stark contrast to Dawn’s hands. Her skin begins to tickle and then her head clears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Dawn pulls away, Tobin brings her hand to her head on instinct, but there is no more sign of the wound, no more pain at her touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t fix all your wounds, I’m afraid,” Dawn says. “Some run too deep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin fixes Dawn with a hard stare. She doesn’t want to acknowledge that she knows what Dawn means. “Thank you for the healing,” she says, her voice even, emotionless. She stands, eager to get on her way, eager to start tracking Christen down. She has no idea how they’ll be able to get her away from the Seekers, but she has to try. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll get her back,” Dawn says when Tobin is a few steps away. “If that helps.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin nods, just barely. “Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She wakes up in a cold sweat, the remnants of her dream lingering on the edges of her consciousness so that it takes her a few minutes to remember where she is, who she’s with, what’s going on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her family isn’t there. They haven’t been with her in a long time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Christen -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen’s not there either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with any luck, what was happening to her in Tobin’s dream isn’t what she’s actually going through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closes her eyes, shakes her head, wills the tormented cries from her mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She loses everyone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s the thought that sticks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She should have known not to get close, not to let her guard down because she only hurts those she’s close to. She only ever loses them in the end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And here she is chasing after someone she’s not sure she’ll be able to rescue. Here she is worried, stressed, with ghosts preying on her mind, not sure if Christen will even welcome her rescue attempts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet she can’t lose her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not to those soldiers that had shown them such disdain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She won’t lose someone else. Not like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’ll die trying to save her if she has to. Better that than to shoulder the blame for the suffering of yet another person. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The trail is erratic, but not disguised. They appear to have broken off into two groups, though, which raises the question about which trail to follow or whether or not to split up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The latter seems unwise. They’re outnumbered already as it is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Emily who notices the way that the tracks going one way appear to have all sorts of scuffs, as if multiple people were being dragged. As if, if their assumption is right at least, they were carrying off their wounded somewhere they could be tended to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s possible. Probable, even. Yet the fact that they choose one path over another keeps Tobin on edge. It feels as if Christen is slipping further away, even though in all likelihood they’re gaining ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lack of effort to disguise their trail suggests two things: that they don’t expect to be followed (which is good, it means that Tobin and her friends will likely have the element of surprise) and that they are not concerned about potential encounters (which is bad, because if means they know their strength). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though they now have a direction, they don’t pick up speed. A location on Christen is one thing. A plan is another, and they are severely lacking in any plan that won’t result in all of them wounded, or, worse, dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin wants to hurry, wants to get eyes on Christen, to make sure she’s okay, to start taking out the soldiers who captured her before they can realize they’re being tracked, but Ash’s hand on her arm is steady, firm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It won’t help her if we all end up dead,” she points out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Tobin nods and they sit and they plan. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“We shouldn’t wait. Cover of dark will help us,” Tobin mutters, poking at the fire with a long stick. She hasn’t attempted to make a shelter for herself for the night. She’s not sure she’ll be able to sleep anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The plan is...rough, at best. They’ll be lucky to come away unscathed. Extremely lucky, really. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she’s not a lucky person. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can feel Ali’s dark eyes on her, studying her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Ali is shifting from Ash’s side, settling beside her on the ground, fingers rolling a stray pebble on the ground in front of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want her back.” It’s a statement, not a question, yet Tobin feels the need to respond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The quest doesn’t make sense without her,” she mumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali’s hand closes on hers, commanding her attention away from the embers she sparks up with the stick, and Tobin meets her gaze uneasily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali studies her for a long moment and Tobin can’t seem to tear her eyes away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want her back, too,” Ali says in a quiet voice, turning away and releasing her hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin lets out a long breath and resumes poking at the fire. “You’ve been friends a long time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since birth practically,” Ali confirms. “She’s strong, you know. Stronger than I give her credit for a lot of the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you trying to convince me she’ll be okay or yourself?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali smirks. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe both,” she replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin answers with a thin-lipped smile. She knows that Ali does not trust her, not fully, but perhaps on this they understand each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll head out at dawn,” Ali says, getting to her feet and starting towards the shelter that she and Ash had set up when they made camp for the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have faith in the plan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali pauses, not turning around. “I have faith in Christen.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Attempts at Escape</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Christen gives her captors some trouble.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, so I think what I'm going to do is post this week and next week then take a break until sometime in the new year. Motivation to work on this (and kinda all woso fics, sorry, please don't hate me) has been a bit hard to come by recently. <br/>I hope you enjoy this chapter. Let me know your thoughts!<br/>xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I’m thirsty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldiers escorting her ignore her. They’ve lost about half of the group, the rest gone to escort the wounded to a safe place to get bandaged up and recover, and those charged with her immediate care are young, but annoyingly stubborn. They’re the type that’s out to prove themselves. She’s going to make that as hard for them as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very thirsty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They continue to ignore her, so she starts to drag her feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So very thirsty that it makes it hard to walk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears the taller one of the two directly in front of her sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How will I keep going without a drink?” she persists. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give her a drink, Diego,” the tall one mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do it,” Diego grumbles back, but he takes his flask from his hip and they pause long enough for him to pour some water into her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m hungry, too,” Christen informs them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the only time they take off the ropes that bind her wrists behind her back, though they keep their weapons trained steadily on her the whole time. It is the only time that she can properly feel the electricity in the air around her, though she tries as they walk, to see if she can manipulate it in small ways, control it. If she can get it to work behind her back then perhaps -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can wait for food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, that’s fine. If you want to show up to the Baron with a witch that’s half starved to death, I guess that’s your prerogative,” Christen replies. “I don’t know how I’ll be able to do magic for him, but he probably won’t mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The men exchange a weary look before the tall one shoves a rather dry biscuit into her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easier to eat with my hands unbound,” she mutters around the food, crumbs falling from her mouth in an undignified fashion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’ll manage,” the tall one retorts. “Let’s get moving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Arthur, what’s the hold up?” a soldier from the front of the troop calls back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No hold up! We’re coming!” Arthur replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t want me to choke,” Christen says, her voice muffled by the half-chewed food in her mouth. Normally she wouldn’t talk with her mouth full, but normally she’s not a captive either, so she’s not so concerned about her table manners. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just give us a minute!” Arthur calls on. “We’ll catch up!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beware the witch! They are wily creatures!” warns the voice from the front. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got it!” Diego assures him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very well. Hurry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll hurry my foot up your -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Diego asks as Christen mumbles under her breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cuts herself off, swallows her mouthful of food, offers her best smile and says, “Nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldiers sleep soundly. They’re clearly used to life on the road. The hard ground seems to do nothing to keep them awake. Of course, there is always a soldier on guard. He is always armed, always watching her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, that doesn’t mean that he’s watching behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She threads the energy through her fingers. It’s just a small amount. Not enough to burn her, just enough for a comfortable warmth to press into her lower back. Her wrists ache and her fingers are ineloquent in their movements, and she loses the energy quickly, but it’s longer than she could do it the day before. If she can work up a little more control, she can do something with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A snore erupts to her right. Diego is a noisy sleeper, it turns out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you make him be quiet? It’s hard to sleep?” she protests to the guard on duty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives her a hard stare, but she doesn’t miss the glare that he shoots towards Diego when he snores loudly again. She smirks, laying her head back down so that the guard won’t notice. She has no intention of trying to sleep yet, but he doesn’t need to know that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, she calls for the energy again and practices some more. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s an opportunity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Five days of travel with them and she’s sure of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s right after dinner, when the sky is painted in shades of blue from twilight, the sun not completely set, the moon already risen, bringing with it a power of its own. It’s not cover of darkness, but it’s murky enough that people can believe that their eyes are playing tricks on them. For once the knowledge that she’s a witch might work to her advantage. Diego and Arthur are young and eager to prove themselves, but they’re on edge around her, too, aware of her power. All of the soldiers are. It makes them easy to manipulate to an extent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they’re drowsy after dinner, the day’s marching and the comfort of the food settling in their bellies making them more complacent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she times it right, she thinks, she can make it work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels the energy coil around her fingers, up her wrist, forming a heated ring like a bracelet there. It stays steady until she can just smell the hint of burning rope, and then she releases it, straight into the ground beside her. She turns her wrists together and feels the way the bonds are looser, the strength of the rope failing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon she’s going to make her escape. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think she’s worth it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?” Arthur asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Baron’s lady,” Diego replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen’s ears pricked at that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tyler.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s not even what he’s really after,” Arthur replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their footsteps fall heavily on the dry earth. There’s a sharp chill in the air today, and Christen wishes that she had warmer clothes, but at least she’s moving and the sun is out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s he after?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same as everyone who gets a taste of power,” Arthur replies, tapping his nose as if he’s full of wisdom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?” Diego asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More power, of course. He just wants his lady back because it looks bad that someone took her right out from under his nose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diego nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who took her?” Christen asks, unable to bite her tongue. She doesn’t want this conversation to die. If she’s going to be a captive, maybe she can at least gather some useful information. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both men look at her in surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some fierce warrior type from further north,” Diego replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diego shrugs. “Probably what Arthur said. Power, right? Heard her dad has money.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He controls some big trade routes or something, I think it is,” Arthur corrects. “Got a title too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right,” Diego nods, and Christen doesn’t bother to correct the details they’ve gotten wrong. That would lead to questions and right now all she wants is answers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So where was she taken? Is that what I’ll be used for? To rescue this lady?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diego shrugs, but Arthur gives her a hard look. She calls for some energy behind her back. Just in case. She doesn’t want to have to play her cards yet, though. Now is not the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s up in the warrior’s kingdom. Way up north, last report. Last witch they sent after her, didn’t come back, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen feels a shiver run down her spine, dread sinking in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nor did any of the soldiers sent with her,” Diego adds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So the Baron will send me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. Way up north. Where the snow stays on the mountains year round, and this time of year it’s blanketed white. Last troop had to go all the way past Rundholm, I heard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shivers again, but this time it’s not fear, but excitement. She has a location. Not precise, exactly, but almost. She’ll take it. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She has a plan. She’s going to act on it. She has to time it right, though. She knows she’ll only get one chance at it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her wrists are almost free, the rope weak enough now. She knows that a hard tug will snap the remaining strands. She just needs to time it right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight, she thinks. Tonight after dinner once the setting sun casts long shadows and the golden glow has faded from the sky. That’s when she’ll strike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a commotion up ahead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alms for the poor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any money to spare, sir?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, I am weary and old.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen closes her eyes. She knows those voices, though they’re clearly attempting to disguise them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She peers around Diego and sees figures, stooped as if their backs ache, dark hoods over their heads, arms outstretched begging. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Much to her surprise, the first soldiers pass them by, barely sparing a second glance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, might you spare some coins? I haven’t eaten in days.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen represses the urge to roll her eyes at Emily’s overdramatization. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re going to get themselves and her killed. If only they’d give her a little more time…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But of course they hadn’t. She can see that when she locks eyes with Ali. She should have expected it, really.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not until about half of the soldiers are past them, that one bothers to take a closer look and all hell breaks loose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you’re not -” The accusation begins, aimed at Ash, but he is cut off by a swift palm to the nose, followed by a kick to the abdomen strong enough to shove him back into the soldier beside him, the wind knocked from him for a moment, which is all that Ash needs to bring his head to her knee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He falls to the ground with a low moan, and there is a startled moment of confusion, before fists are flying, swords are being drawn, and knives are being unsheathed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin makes quick work with her bow, taking out the two soldiers closest to her, and Christen meets her gaze. She swallows hard at the emotion she sees there, the flash of feelings that is gone in a moment when a soldier comes to grab her from behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For goodness sakes!” Christen sighs, and yanks her arms apart, calling the energy to her fingers as she does so, so that by the time her wrists are free there is a ball of white hot energy swirling above each hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry boys,” she murmurs, as Diego and Arthur turn to secure her. Their faces go white and their eyes go wide and it takes little more than energy balls towards their feet to send them running. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other soldiers are not so easily scared, however, and Christen is glad that she’s been practicing, glad that she’s been working on her control and endurance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The energy burns as it barrels into armor, heating it to a sizzling red. A dozen fireballs later, and they’re still outnumbered. Even as soldiers shed their armor and make themselves more vulnerable, they close ranks, adjust formations, produce more weapons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash is cut, Emily is unconscious, and Ali’s wrists are being bound. Tobin’s arrows and Lindsey’s sheer size and determination cannot win this fight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither can a small ball of energy, Christen realizes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stops, she focuses, she feels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s all around her, the hum, the buzz, the crackle, and she calls for it, reaching out, drawing it in. She sees a soldier coming at her, sword raised, but then Tobin’s arrow meets his throat and he drops before her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen doesn’t flinch. She lets the energy grow until it encircles her, alive, pulsing, shimmering in the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“TOBIN! LINDSEY! GET BACK!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as she sees them clear, Christen tells the energy where to go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mind is calm, her hands sure as they’re raised, and the energy flows through her and out into the swords drawn against them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It flows up the blades, through the hilts, and straight into those that wield them, their bodies convulsing as the energy sparks, bright and electric, through them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their swords drop to the ground with a clatter, and then they begin to drop as well. Only when the final one thuds to the ground does Christen stop, banishing the energy from her body, pushing it back into the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her friends look at her with mouths agape. “They’re alive,” she informs them, slightly relieved to see the rise and fall of their chests. “Just stunned unconscious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you could do that,” Ali breathes out, almost a little accusingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To be honest, I wasn’t sure I could either,” Christen replies a little sheepishly. And then she remembers that she likely wouldn’t have had to had she been able to enact her plan her way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit!” Emily declares, and the others seem to agree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen takes a deep breath. “Shall we be on our way before they regain consciousness? I have a city name we need to head to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you got info?” Emily asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen smiles and nods. “I had it covered. If you hadn’t come barging in with those horrible disguises, I would have escaped tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, most people would say thank you,” Tobin informs her with a smirk, and Christen can’t help but grin in reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Wanderer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome...Witch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen throws her head back and laughs. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ali has trouble with Tobin's newfound closeness to Christen.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Holidays (late for Channukah and early for Christmas)! I hope you enjoy the newest installment. If you do, please consider leaving me the gift of a comment! Wishing you all a healthy and happy holidays!<br/>xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She doesn’t like it. She doesn’t TRUST it. Not one bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin’s been useful enough, sure, but the way that Christen is looking at her now, now that she’s back, now that she’s as safe as any of them are (which increasingly feels like not very safe at all), Ali doesn’t like it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not like Tobin had orchestrated the rescue plan all by herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Christen is riding beside Tobin more and more often. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Ali has caught them huddled in conversation at night more than once recently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that there’s anything wrong with talking, obviously. It’s not like they’re doing what she’s doing with Ash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which Ash has pointed out to her. More than once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It bothers her. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure we can trust her?” Ali asks Christen when they’re lagging behind the group a bit, taking the rear guard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re all more vigilant since the rescue. Now it’s not just a possibility that someone might be after them, but a definite. Any encounter with any soldier could prove to be a big problem, and there is more and more soldier activity. Making their way through areas unnoticed is becoming more and more of a problem. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ash? I think she’s proven her loyalty. And she seems really into you. At least if the sounds the two of you make at night is any indication,” Christen teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali blushes, but shakes her head. “No. Not Ash.” She doesn’t doubt Ash. Maybe she should. Maybe she’s let her in too easily, but the way that Ash looks at her, the way it feels like she’d walk through hot coals just to get a kiss from her, it makes her chest tighten in this warm way that feels comforting. “Tobin.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen sits up straighter, surprise evident on her face. “Yes. Why wouldn’t we?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we’ve been traveling with her for weeks now and what do we really know about her still? She never talks about herself or her past or —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s proven her loyalty more than Ash, Ali. Just because she doesn’t flaunt past sexual conquests doesn’t mean that we can’t trust her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And just like that, Christen digs her heel into her horse, speeds up, moves to ride beside Emily instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She would bring things up with Emily, but she’s honestly not sure that Emily has noticed. Emily, like always, only has eyes for Lindsey. The difference these days, however, is that Lindsey seems to have eyes back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s easy to see by the fire at night, the way that they sit close together, the way that their fingers brush, shy but growing bolder by the day. It’s easy to see in the way they ride side by side more often than not, eyes glancing towards one another, smiles on their faces even with the increasing frequency of bad weather. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They will be getting their first snow any day now and Ali is sure they’re unprepared. It will only make this whole quest harder and Emily and Lindsey keep making moon eyes at each other and Christen is so wrapped up in Tobin that she doesn’t even notice how in trouble they are. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Even Ash doesn’t get it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The girl’s allowed to flirt, babe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali glares daggers. “Don’t you think our quest is a little more important than flirting?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash scoots a little closer, bats her eyes in a way that makes Ali smile despite herself. “I think we can multitask,” Ash replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali swats at her playfully. “You know what I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash nods. “Yep. You’re jealous. Your bestie is making new friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s not it. It’s not it at all. She’s not JEALOUS. That’s not —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forget it,” she mutters and storms away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she’s forgotten where they are, forgotten what she and Ash are meant to be doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She storms away straight into a soldier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clank of his armor and the way that she simply bounces off of him lets her know that he is not someone to take on before she’s even looked up into his annoyed face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry!” she murmurs and turns quickly on her heels, or tries to at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldier has a solid arm around her waist, though. And his face has morphed from annoyed to lecherous. “Oh don’t rush off on my account,” he says. “Stay a while.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It means he doesn’t recognize her. If descriptions of their group have travelled here, either they’re not good enough to describe her or this man hasn’t made the connection yet, which is something. He’s not letting her go, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, really, I have chores to attend to,” she replies, looking down, scooting as far away as his grip will let her. She doesn’t want him to draw connections, doesn’t want him to get too good of a look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can think of some chores I’d like you to do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldier beside him is now starting to notice her. The more attention she draws, the more likely it is that someone will know, who she is, who she’s with. It’s not good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really must be going,” she tries again, wondering exactly how far she’d get if she just punched him in the face and made a run for it. Not very was her guess. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there’s a loud bang across the square and smoke rises from behind a row of carts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” the soldier beside the one with his arm around Ali asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali feels his grip loosen, and then both men are running towards the smoke, Ali mercifully left behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The trouble is that there are more soldiers closing in now. Not on her, but on the minor explosion, on the square. She needs to find Ash and she needs to get away. They have a few supplies. Not all, but it will have to be enough. They’ve got some warmer cloaks, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walks as calmly as she can away. She doesn’t want to risk drawing more attention to herself. Not here. Not with this many soldiers nearby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then a hand grabs her, pulling her back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome, hot stuff.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ash?” Ali gasps as her heart races out of control. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saw you were in trouble and thought a little diversion might help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“YOU set the explosion?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. Timed so that I wasn’t actually near it when it went off. So now, if you don’t mind, maybe we can get away?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali kisses her hard. She doesn’t linger. Ash is right. They DO have to get away, and sooner rather than later, but —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re something else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash grins at her. “I’ll take that as a good thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I think that you’re being a little harsh on Tobin,” Ash says when they’re safely back to camp settled in their makeshift shelter for the night, away from the group. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, you’ve been suspicious of her from the start, right? But just because she doesn’t like to share. Except that I believe part of her unwillingness to do so is because thoughts of home and the past are just too painful for her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali furrows her brows and glances towards the fire where Tobin is joking around with Emily and Lindsey. She doesn’t seem like she’s repressing pain. “What makes you say that?” she asks, turning back to Ash. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash hesitates, bites her lower lip, but then leans in and explains, “When we were in the monastery, she ran into someone who knew her. He talked about her family’s misfortunes, mentioned a brother.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali feels her blood begin to boil. Ash has known something about Tobin and not shared. Tobin ran into someone she knew and didn’t bother to disclose that to the rest of them? What if he told others? What if he ran his mouth about the group of them? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The man made it sound as if she couldn’t go home,” Ash adds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s enough. That’s proof if Ali has ever heard it. You don’t get banned from your home for being an upstanding citizen. No more secrets. Ali is done. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. A Hint of Romance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Emily can't help flirting with Lindsey. She can't help wanting to spend time with her. No matter what else may be going on around them.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy New Year! (A few days early...be real: did you think we'd ever get there this year?) This is unfortunately the last chapter I have written, so time between updates is apt to be substantially longer. I know there are only 9 chapters left, but there's quite a bit that's gonna happen yet, so hang in there, please! <br/>Wishing all of you a happy and healthy new year! <br/>xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Things with Lindsey have been...tentative...maybe a little precarious. Emily feels like she’s approaching a spooked horse every time she goes to Lindsey, as if the wrong move might send her running. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, she’s not really TRYING to start anything. They’re a bit otherwise occupied what with dodging troops and scrambling for supplies and trying to gain any and all information they possibly can about the whereabouts of Christen’s sister and the warrior princess who is holding her hostage, about the mountains around Rundholm where her troops might be hiding out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just that if she happens to ride alongside Lindsey, that’s not a big thing, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or if when they’re traversing some terrain on foot she happens to want to educate Lindsey about various wild edibles (especially now that foraging seems like a lifeline somedays), then that’s just looking out for a friend, really. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The flat topped ones are bad?” Lindsey asks, pointing at a small </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really, extremely poisonous,” Emily confirms with a slight grin. “Please don’t eat them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I want to cook them up for my enemies,” Lindsey suggests, bumping Emily with her hip as they walk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily feels heat flush through her, and it’s definitely not from the increasingly cold weather. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Snow will fall soon and then foraging will grow near impossible. They can make a drink that will give them some nutrients from boiling pine needles, but it won’t sustain them for long. They’ll become more reliant on towns and markets, and that’s going to be a problem with the bounty that’s likely on Christen and probably the rest of them too. They’ve gotten lucky so far, but Emily knows far too well that eventually luck runs out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like you can cook,” Emily teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey looks aghast, and then giggles. “Hey, I have learned. Haven’t I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your last stew was the most edible so far,” Emily agrees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am limited by my ingredients.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Also maybe you need a lesson to distinguish between salt and sugar. If you stick your tongue out and just taste a crystal it’s actually really —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily gets cut off by an elbow to the side and dissolves into giggles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“SHH!” Ali hisses from behind them, and Emily represses a sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali has been extra on edge lately. Ever since Christen was taken. Emily understands, but Christen is back and luckily seems no worse for wear. Emily’s not sure that Ali really gives her best friend enough credit. She seems damn capable as far as Emily’s concerned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See if I ever cook for you again,” Lindsey mumbles, though there’s a smile on her face and faint flush to her cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily feels brave. This conversation has gone well and Lindsey has even initiated touch. Maybe she can just —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey pulls her hand away, her next step carrying her more sideways than forward, putting a little space between their bodies, and Emily tries not to take offense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t let her smile falter. She pretends she doesn’t notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They keep walking. It wasn’t a full startle, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Privacy is hard to come by. The best way to get it is to volunteer for watch at night, but, of course, that comes with it’s own setbacks. Drowsiness the next day being one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s surprised, then, when Lindsey volunteers to stay up with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They can hear soft moans emanating from the tent that Ash and Ali are sharing. It’s a little ways off, but sound carries in the cold air at night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily pretends she doesn’t notice. She doesn’t want to think about what they’re doing. Not with Lindsey sitting next to her on the ground, face lit by the glow of the fire. Not when she can so easily slip into fantasies of her own, of eliciting those same sounds from the woman beside her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey clears her throat uncomfortably, and Emily offers her an unsure smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for the company,” she offers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey nods. Then, after a beat, says, “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice is quiet, low, and it sends a shiver down Emily’s spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what?” Emily asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For taking the time to teach me, to show me. I...I haven’t really had a lot of cause to learn a lot of this stuff before now and you — You never make me feel like an idiot for not knowing. You tease me but it’s never mean, and —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily studies her face, watches the firelight dance over it, casting ever-changing shadows, each of which illuminate a different element of beauty in Lindsey’s features. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey turns her gaze to meet hers, her eyes impossibly clear in the light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily’s breath catches. She can’t help it. Lindsey is stunning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” she breathes out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey raises an eyebrow, and then her eyes drop, and Emily can feel where they drop too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She licks her lips, holding Lindsey’s gaze there. She remembers all too vividly how Lindsey’s lips had felt pressed against them. But that was weeks go now, and —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really special, Emily.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Special as in idiotic?” Emily jokes, feeling the weight of the air around them, the tension that seems to only be climbing. She needs to break it, to shatter the mood before she goes and does something stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey doesn’t crack a smile, she just looks back into Emily’s eyes. “No. As in unique.” Lindsey reaches out a hand and Emily holds her breath as Lindsey seems to hesitate for a split second, and then she’s tucking hair behind Emily’s ear, her fingers lingering along Emily’s jawline. “Precious,” Lindsey adds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily doesn’t know if there are still sounds coming from Ash and Ali’s tent. She couldn’t say if Tobin was snoring or Christen was still up, pouring over the notebook Tobin had managed to find for her. She isn’t aware of anything except for the pounding of her heart in her chest, the warmth of Lindsey’s touch on her jaw, and the way Lindsey’s leaning in, and in, and —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey’s lips taste sweeter than she remembers and Emily gasps into the kiss. She had felt it coming and still it catches her off-guard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey pulls away, just a little, her cheeks flushed a dark pink. “Sorry, is that —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Emily doesn’t let her finish. She kisses her again, more fiercely. “It’s fine. It’s good,” she breathes against Lindsey’s lips. “Better than good,” she adds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey’s lips are needs and her tongue is soft and Emily could get lost in this moment forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All too soon it ends, though. Lindsey pulling back, breathless. Emily chases her for a moment, then remembers her place, remembers where they are and who they’re with. She feels a blush burning through her cheeks, but Lindsey doesn’t bolt, she doesn’t startle. She smiles at Emily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve wanted to do that since the first time,” she admits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily’s eyes go wide at that information. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t WANT to want to,” Lindsey confesses. “It’s...You’re...Everything is kinda scary right now, but —” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily follows a swallow down Lindsey’s throat with her eyes, her lips still tingling, her mind unbidden wondering what it might be like to kiss her way down that throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to be scared of you,” Lindsey breathes out. “Of that. I —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily kisses her again, quickly. Then pulls away smiling. “We should probably actually do some guard duty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey smiles shyly back at her, and Emily can’t help thinking that nobody really understands just how brave Lindsey really is just for coming along on this trip in the first place, let alone all of the things that have happened since she decided to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Yeah. Guard duty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily doesn’t mention it when Lindsey’s hand slides into her own, but she sure as hell doesn’t let go, either. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“So. You and Lindsey, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily feels her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t look up as Tobin sits down across from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must’ve played your cards right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like you are with Christen? Rushing in to rescue her?” Emily counters with a smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty sure Christen was saving herself. Pretty sure Christen could do anything she really set her mind to,” Tobin replies with an easy shrug. “And apparently you can, too. Way to get the girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t gotten the girl,” Emily mumbles. Except maybe she kind of has. Sort of. A little at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh. Well, that’s interesting. Seemed like you two could hardly keep your eyes off each other during the ride today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily blushes deeper. It’s true that she had had a hard time tearing her eyes away from Lindsey and more than once she had caught Lindsey looking back at her. She hadn’t realized that anyone else had noticed, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s easy to see you really care for her,” Tobin says, her voice sounding less teasing and more caring. “I hope that things can stay true and easy through the end of this quest. It can be hard going back to society after —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“TOBIN!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali’s shout makes Emily jump. She can see Christen look up from where she’s writing in her notebook, brows furrowed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin looks up too, surprised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali is marching towards them, face contorted in anger, Ash chasing after her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ali, come on. It’s not a big deal. Leave her be,” Emily hears Ash’s pleas, but Ali ignores them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“TIME is UP, Tobin. We need to talk. Right now. It’s time for you to tell us everything!” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Confrontation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tobin faces an irate Ali.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Surprise! I managed to pull out this chapter today. Hope you all enjoy!<br/>xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a matter of time. She had known that, but she had hoped that it wouldn’t be so soon. She’d hoped to have more time. With the way that Ali has been looking at her recently, though, she’s not surprised it’s now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash’s apologetic look tells her all she needs to know and she braces herself, every muscle tensing as if ready for a fight, though she has no intention of striking a blow or drawing a weapon. She gets to her feet slowly and faces Ali, who, instead of addressing her directly, swings her arms around at everyone else and declares, “SHE saw someone she knows at the monastery!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin is aware of Lindsey stepping out of the shelter, curious to see what the commotion is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin keeps herself from looking to Christen. She feels her lurking nearby, watching curiously, but she doesn’t dare look at her reaction. She doesn’t want to see the betrayal she’s sure she’ll find there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows the danger she’s put them in by not mentioning it, by asking Ash to keep quiet just because she’d rather her past stay in her past. If he carelessly mentioned them to someone…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they hadn’t been in the large group when she’d encountered him. And the odds were good he’d already forgotten the exchange. That was what she’d told herself. That was how she’d justified it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And her past is nobody’s business but her own. That hasn’t changed. It doesn’t jeopardize the group. Not so far from home. She’s at far greater risk as part of the group than on her own, yet she’s stayed, but that has earned her no points with Ali. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had thought they had reached an understanding, a truce of kinds in their search for Christen, but it’s clear that that went out the window the second that Christen was back in the fold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You saw someone you knew and you didn’t tell any of us!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then how do you know?” Tobin shoots back, unable to resist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only know because Ash SAW you talking to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So she kept a secret, too,” Tobin replies. She’s not trying to throw Ash under the bus, just point out the double standard Ali seems to have when it comes to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali ignores her, her eyes flashing in the firelight, rage written on her features. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We let you tag along, let you into our lives, and everyone shares except you. You want us to trust you, but you don’t trust us at all. And now you’ve put our mission at risk. What if he tells soldiers he saw you? What if he saw all of us together and he decides he’d like the reward listed on the posters? But you were too selfish, too busy not trusting us, too busy trying to get Christen on her back to think about other people’s lives!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin feels her cheeks flush. She hasn’t been trying to get Christen into bed. It would be a lie to say she hasn’t thought about it, briefly, in passing, but it’s not their focus or their current goal. It’s really not her fault that Christen is stunning and funny and surprisingly clever and thoughtful. She is not at all the woman that Tobin expected her to be when she arrived at her father’s property with a wounded Michael in tow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali’s other words hit her harshly, though, and she feels her hackles rise. “I’m selfish? How far, exactly would you have gotten without my foraging knowledge? Without my bow and arrow to provide meat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’d have been just fine,” Ali spits back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin lets out a cold laugh. “There’s plenty of evidence to the contrary. And why should I disclose my past if it’s not relevant to my present?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t it? Isn’t that what you’re running from? Isn’t that the only reason you really came with us? To keep going further away from where you’re from?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d have gotten a whole lot further a whole lot faster without the group. I came along to help. I thought you’d have gotten that through your thick skull when I helped rescue Christen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only because you want to fuck her!” Ali accuses. “What are you running from Tobin? What are you so scared to tell us? Are you a murderer? A thief? Why can’t you go home like Ash says? What did you do to your brother?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Christen steps between them, her shoulders held high, her gaze meeting Ali’s head on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin’s blood is boiling, she feels red heat coursing through her. How dare Ali suggest she’d have hurt her brother? She has no right to talk about her home, to talk about her past! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s enough,” Christen repeats in a clear, matter-of-fact voice. She reaches a hand back to touch Tobin’s and it’s only then that Tobin realizes that her fists are clenched, her knuckles white, nails digging into her palm. She was getting ready to strike and she hadn’t even realized it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin takes a deep breath, letting out slowly, steadily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the guilt hits, square in the chest, tight and uncomfortable. An apology is on her lips, but Christen says, “I know that she ran into an acquaintance at the monastery, and in truth he seemed nothing more. Someone who knew her family more than her. Someone who showed her no fear as he would have done were she a murderer or someone dangerous to him. He seemed more interested in other things and Tobin gave him no information on us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin’s eyes go wide. Christen had seen? She had overheard? And she’d never mentioned, never brought it up, never questioned as she’d have had every right to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You knew?” Ali deflates, her fight disappearing in the face of her friend and Tobin breathes a little bit easier. “But —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why doesn’t she tell us anything? Why do we just have to stumble upon it ourselves?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin isn’t sure she wants Christen’s answer. She almost turns, almost walks away, but she feels frozen in place. If Christen cares so little of her past…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her past is hers to share when she’s ready, if she so chooses. I trust her. She has helped us time and again. I don’t care who she was in the past. I care who she is now, and that is someone who I know I can rely on to help me save my sister. Make your peace with her, Ali, because she’s not going anywhere.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin can’t see Ali’s reaction. The truth is, in the moment, she doesn’t care what it is. All she cares about are Christen’s words. All she cares about is the way that Christen turns and smiles at her, a reassuring smile. All she cares about is the little glimmer of something — something she doesn’t dare name, something she can only hope for — in Christen’s eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unless you want to?” Christen adds, the question evident in her voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin shakes her head, bites back a smile. “No. I think I’m where I’m needed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile Christen offers her then is vibrant and it makes something in Tobin’s stomach flip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali gives her a long, hard look over Christen’s shoulder. “I hope Christen’s trust isn’t misplaced,” is all she says before turning on her heels and walking away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash lingers to offer an apology, but it’s not needed. Tobin’s surprised she’s kept it this long with the way that Ash seems to swoon around Ali. Tobin waves the apology away with a shrugged, “Don’t worry about it. Go comfort your lady.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash grins. “I can probably take her mind of things,” she replies with a wiggle of her eyebrows that elicits a laugh from Tobin, a groan from Lindsey, and a soft smile from Christen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily puts a hand on Tobin’s arm and gives it a squeeze. “You’re okay in my book,” she offers before stretching and yawning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You going to bed to escape the teasing?” Tobin asks with a wink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily laughs. “Can’t I just be tired?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After that riveting show?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily laughs again and heads towards Lindsey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Lindsey doesn’t step to her. Instead she approaches Tobin. “I agree with Christen. You’ve helped us a lot. So...Whatever your past is...I mean, I think I’m learning maybe not to judge based on the past: mine or others’. So, I...yeah. Um...I don’t have a problem. With you, I mean.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin nods. She can tell it’s hard for Lindsey to get out. She can tell that Lindsey doesn’t trust her as much as some of the others do, but she’s still working on trusting Christen, too, and Tobin has seen her grow, seen her learn. She doesn’t want to be judged on her past either. “Thanks,” she murmurs, offering a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Lindsey does follow Emily off to the makeshift shelter to get some sleep. Or maybe they’ll stay up talking. Maybe they’ll keep flirting. Maybe they’ll finally act on things. Who knows? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin’s left by the fire with Christen whose watchful eyes apparently see more than Tobin gives them credit for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never said. That you saw. That you heard,” Tobin finally says, settling back in her seat by the fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen sits down across the fire from her and watches her through the flames, eyes bright. “It didn’t seem relevant.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin nods. “I don’t think it has put us at risk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen shook her head. “Nor do I. But, Tobs?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The nickname falls so easily from her lips and Tobin wonders when exactly that began to happen. “Hmm?” Tobin hums in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you ever should like to share, I’d be happy to listen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin nods again, feeling that increasingly familiar flip in her stomach once again. “Someday, maybe. I think maybe someday I’ll want to.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With you,” Tobin adds before she can think better of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen’s answering smile makes something warm and tight curl low in her stomach. She doesn’t dare hope though. Not too much. Not when she came so close to losing her once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles back anyway. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Swooning and Surprises</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lindsey is all wrapped up in Emily, but maybe she should have paid more attention to their surroundings.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the delay. I hope people are still willing to read this.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Emily seems so unsure. All the time. About all of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey doesn’t notice at first, but after a while it starts to click. She never reaches for Lindsey. She never leans in first for a kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kisses back, though. She kisses back sometimes like her life depends on it. And that leaves Lindsey feeling both shy and breathless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there’s this sense from Emily, even after they break apart, even after Lindsey has licked into her mouth, has put her hands on her waist, has moaned into the kiss, that she doesn’t quite believe it. It’s like she thinks that Lindsey is going to pull it all away from her in an instant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she’s not going to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows it won’t be easy, that it’s not what her parents would want, maybe not what’s expected of her by society, but neither is this journey. Neither is a friendship with a witch or camping out night after night or leaving her injured brother in someone else’s care, and, to be honest, she doesn’t give a damn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because for the first time ever it feels like she’s living. Truly living. And for herself, not for someone else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And as day after day ticks by, as they travel from here to there and the first flakes of snow fall, blanketing the world in a thin frosty layer of white making travel even more arduous, Lindsey finds that she only wants more time in Emily’s company. She only wants to hear her unrestrained laugh, only wants to catch the rosiness of her cheeks as she grins, only wants to stare into her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not yet comfortable, fully, with wanting her, but she WANTS to be. Every day that passes she is more sure of THAT at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she strives to show Emily that in any little way that she can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they’re riding, she has her horse keep pace with Emily’s. When they walk, she loops her pinky through Emily’s as a point of contact. When they make camp —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, Lindsey is staying plenty warm at night, even if they’re nowhere near to engaging in the sorts of activities that Ali and Ash get up to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(The very thought of it makes her cheeks burn and an aching heat pool low in her stomach.) </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s their turn to make their way into town. They only ever go in with two of them at a time. The thinking is that one might get captured, but the other should be able to escape and warn the others. In smaller numbers they are less likely to be recognized as well. That’s the theory, anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey’s seen the signs up before, the posters of the group of them, and then the others: the ones that have Christen’s face painted in far too uncanny detail on them with a reward for her written beneath. At least the signs stipulate that she is to be kept alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are, as always, chasing not only supplies but information, and Lindsey lets Emily do most of the talking as she picks out some food: dried meats, hearty root vegetables, some fresher items to be consumed in the next day or two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she sees the blankets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can’t help but take Emily’s hand, lead her away, admire the soft, fluffy fabric. “We could share,” she suggests. There’s no way they have enough money for all of them, but just a few could make a difference. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and me? Or all of us?” Emily asks. There’s a hint of mischief in her eyes, and Lindsey wants to pull her in right there, right in the square, and kiss her as if they’re alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t, but she wants to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d share anything with you,” she says instead, and Emily blushes, bites her lip, looks away back at the blankets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They would be good, but we could get more for our money with some animal pelts,” Emily replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just one?” Lindsey asks, taking Emily’s hands in hers once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman who runs the stall looks at them suspiciously, her eyes darting between them. Lindsey almost pulls her hands away, but she remembers the lingering uncertainty in Emily’s eyes and she resists the urge. If this woman wants to judge, then that is a statement about her, not about herself and Emily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One could be good for the really cold nights that will come soon,” Emily relents. “But we WILL have to share.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they go to pay, the woman gives them a price that Lindsey is sure is lower than it should be. She’s about to protest, but Emily puts a hand on her lower back and it’s a reminder of the wealth that she doesn’t have here, the comfortable spending she can no longer afford. The woman’s expression is still gruff and her voice is hoarse and curt as she makes the change, but when she’s wrapping up the blanket for them, Lindsey catches her place some gloves in the package too. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They really should split up. They would cover more ground faster, but Lindsey just can’t bring herself to leave Emily’s side. There’s a magic to the way that she can get anyone talking, anyone laughing. It doesn’t always translate into useful information for them, but Lindsey doesn’t care. She doesn’t care because she could listen to Emily talk all day. So she lingers and though there are soldiers here it seems that there aren’t as many as in previous towns so maybe —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it’s okay if she lets her guard down a little, if she just watches and listens (and falls a little harder day by day). </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, maybe it wasn’t okay at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it wasn’t okay that they paused on the way back, Lindsey unable to not kiss Emily for one second more. Maybe she should have made sure they were further from town, that nobody was interested in them leaving before she pushed Emily up against a tree and kissed her until they were both breathless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kissed her longer than that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kissed her right up until she felt the knife prick the back of her neck, and now, here she is, cheeks burning with embarrassment and anger both, hands bound with Emily just as bound beside her, and a ring of soldiers around them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” The soldier’s voice is menacing. It’s the third time the question has been asked, but neither Lindsey nor Emily has given an answer. Neither of them will. They may have gotten caught, but they’re not going to endanger the rest. If they aren’t back in another few hours, the group will move on without them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sharp blade of a sword lifts her chin and clear amber eyes look down at her. There’s something in the gaze, in the cut of the jaw, in the rise of the cheekbones that makes Lindsey look a little harder, but before her brain can piece anything together the blade pushes her chin uncomfortably higher. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You work for him, don’t you?” The accusation is practically spat at them, but it makes it no less confusing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Him who?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s exactly what one of his spies would say,” says a voice from her right. It strikes Lindsey as a bit high pitched for the average soldier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re nobody’s spies,” Emily replies defensively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Lindsey gasps as the sword leaves her and moves to Emily, the flat of it pressed against her cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are women,” another voice, this one behind them, offers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey wants to retort that women can be spies too, but she suspects that’s not apt to help their case. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why were you asking so many questions in town?” the soldier with the sword to Emily’s cheek asks her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Curious by nature?” Emily suggests, but the soldier doesn’t seem to be amused by that answer. She applies more pressure with the sword, turning Emily’s face away from Lindsey. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you know about the Princess? Why were you asking about her troops?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing! We don’t know anything! That’s why we were asking!” Lindsey cries out. She can see the faint trickle of blood on Emily’s cheek. The blade is sharp enough that it’s cut into her skin, and Lindsey can’t stand the thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why did you want to know?” The soldier’s attention is back on her, but the blade is still pressed to Emily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because we needed to! We’re looking for her! She took our friend’s sister!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emily gasps, and Lindsey knows, she knows that she shouldn’t just blurt this all out like that, but she can’t let Emily get hurt. It’s one thing if it’s her, but not Emily. If she can just get the blade away from Emily —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sword lowers, and then gets sheathed, and then the soldier kneels and removes their helmet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Lindsey’s turn to gasp as short, flowy hair falls around the soldier’s face and Lindsey realizes what her brain had been trying to tell her before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a woman!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldier’s eyes narrow. “I reject gender in all forms, actually,” they reply. “But when I was born my father did not rejoice that he had been blessed with a son, so I can forgive your mistake. Once.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey swallows hard and nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are all either women, or neither men nor women, or both,” the soldier explains. “My name is Kate and I am loyal to the Princess of the North. Now tell me about your friend.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All around them, Lindsey is aware of helmets coming off. Some reveal cascading hair, some earrings in ears, some even makeup. These are not men. Not a single one of them. These are not the baron’s soldiers. There was no way that he would employ them. Not in these kinds of numbers. Not based on what she’s seen of his soldiers so far. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our friend is Christen Press and we’re on a quest to rescue her sister who was kidnapped by the Princess of the North, as you call her,” Lindsey replies </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate looks amused and raises an eyebrow at her. They extend a hand and help Lindsey to her feet before undoing her bonds. Lindsey raises her fists, ready to fight, but Kate shakes their head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me. Do you travel with this friend?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey glances down at Emily, who looks just as baffled as she feels. Another soldier is untying her, and then proceeds to help her to her feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if we were?” Emily asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then,” Kate replies, “I’d suggest that you take us to her. We have some information for her that I think she would be very interested to hear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Interrupted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ash and Ali try to spend some quality time but get interrupted by surprise visitors.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apologies for the short chapter. I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“They’ll be fine,” Ash murmurs against Ali’s neck. She can feel the tension in the muscles there. “You worry too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you don’t worry enough,” Ali retorts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash rolls her eyes, safe in the knowledge that Ali can’t see it. “I worry, but I can multitask.” She presses another kiss to smooth skin, lets her hand trail down Ali’s side, ghost against the spot on her ribs that tickles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t like that she knew and she kept a secret from me.” Ali took Ash’s hand in hers, removing it from her ribs. “Especially one like that that could affect the whole group.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash sighs. Of course she is still stuck on that. Here Ash had thought that perhaps she was stressed waiting for the return of Lindsey and Emily, but, no, of course she is still focused on Tobin and Christen. “My love, she has her reasons and you trust her, so trust that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali’s body freezes, her muscles growing even more tense. “What did you say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Ash braces for a fight, braces for the same response that happens anytime she tries to weigh in on Ali and Christen’s friendship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulls back as Ali turns, but instead of anger in her eyes, Ash is met with wonder. “Did you just call me your love?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash plays back her own words in her head, her cheeks flushing when she realizes that she has indeed. Scarier still, she meant it. “I mean, well, I may have, possibly —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali kisses her, and her lips are soft and sweet. When she leans back, she’s smiling. “So, you love me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash swallows hard. She’s not the emotional, mushy type. She prefers entanglements without attachment. But Ali —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali kisses her again. “Maybe?” she challenges. She kisses her deeper, tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth as she pulls away, and Ash has to smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More than maybe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali kisses her deeper, longer, her tongue sweet as it sweeps into her mouth. “More than maybe?” The kiss resumes, Ali moving to straddle Ash’s lap, her fingers trailing through Ash’s hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Ash gasps, breathless, when Ali breaks the kiss again. “Yes, I do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Ali smiles into their next kiss as Ash slides her hands up under her top. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali pushes her down, lays her back, kisses at her throat, at her jaw, at her collarbone as she lets her hands stray. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash tilts her head back, gives her better access, arches off the ground to aid in the removal of her top. The air is cold, but Ash is anything but with Ali above her, kissing her into the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali looks down at her with such lust that Ash’s whole body is on fire. She wants her. She needs her. She loves her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Ash gasps as Ali’s lips close around her nipple. “God, Ali, yes!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali chuckles against her skin, nips at her nipple with her teeth, a teasing hint of pain mixed with a large hit of pleasure that Ash can’t help but arch into. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You love me,” Ali teases, kissing between Ash’s breasts. She licks her way up between them, then around her other breast before sucking that nipple into her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” is all Ash can admit as Ali’s fingers trail along her belt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Ali murmurs, flicking her tongue against Ash’s nipple before kissing lower. “Because I think maybe I love you too,” she admits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Ash feels her body flush with something more than heat, a warmth that is warm and fuzzy and settles in her chest and only serves to amplify the physical sensations that Ali is provoking in her body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali’s tongue licks across her stomach, her fingers deftly undo her belt, and Ash is practically writhing with the need to be touched, with the need to feel Ali inside of her, to feel her mouth upon her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She needs more and she needs it now, and Ali is wearing far too many articles of clothing for her liking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tugs Ali back up, kisses her deeply, cups her ass, and flips them so that she is on top, so that she can undress Ali to her liking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali moans into her mouth and the sound shoots straight through her, pooling between her legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A commotion. The clattering of armor, the sound of too many feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In an instant, Ash is on her feet and out of the makeshift tent, her sword drawn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air is cold against her bare skin and her trousers are in danger of falling from her hips, but all she can think is that she must protect Ali. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali, who is now standing beside her, armed with the knife that Ash had given her, much more clothed than Ash, much more prepared for a fight perhaps, but Ash wishes that she didn’t have to fight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldiers that have marched into their clearing have Lindsey and Emily with them, but they don’t appear bound. What could have possessed them to give them up like this? Where was their loyalty? Where was their commitment to the quest? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash meets Tobin’s eyes from across the clearing, sees her bow is raised, an arrow notched and ready to strike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” Emily calls out. “They’re friendly!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen steps forward, apparently unarmed, but Ash knows the danger she can be even without a sword at her side. “Perhaps they should prove it,” she challenges. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Ash has to admire her strength, her ability to stand tall in the face of overwhelming force. They are far too outnumbered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey and Emily step forward, step towards their friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t work for the Baron. They work for the Princess of the North,” Lindsey explains. She glances towards Ash, and blushes. “Um, you may want to...cover up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldier who appears to be the leader takes off their helmet and Ash raises her eyebrows. It is not at all who she was expecting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Kate. Do NOT call them a woman,” Emily explains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll only do it once,” Kate adds with a smile that isn’t entirely friendly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash studies the soldiers with them for a moment and realizes that many, if not all, of them are female in form. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ali presses a shirt into her hands and Ash feels confident enough that they are not under immediate threat to momentarily lower her weapon and slip it on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Princess of the North?” Christen asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash sees the hint of energy at her fingertips. Christen is still ready to strike, and so she follows her lead and once again raises her sword. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The one who has kidnapped my sister? You serve her?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate smiles and shakes their head. “There is no need to greet us as an enemy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why is that?” Christen challenges. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because your sister has not been kidnapped at all.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter 27</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Christen is faced with a choice: does she believe Kate and the new soldiers or not? And if she does, what does that mean for her quest?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, look, I finally wrote a new chapter. Sorry for the delay on a cliffhanger and the brevity of this chapter. Let me know if you like it (and if you're still reading!).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What do you mean my sister hasn’t been kidnapped?” Christen doesn’t dissipate the energy at her fingertips, but she does put it on hold. She doesn’t call more to her. The words are unbelievable, but there’s no trace of deceit Kate’s face and the soldiers with them are not braced for combat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your sister left the Baron willingly, as any person with any sense would,” Kate explains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen shakes her head. There’s a ring of truth to the words, but she finds them hard to believe nonetheless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is cruel and petty and self-absorbed and a woman like your sister deserved better,” Kate continues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That, at least, Christen can’t argue with. It was the Baron’s men who had captured her, after all. It was the Baron’s men who had been hunting them for far too much of their journey. “And the Princess of the North captured her after she ran?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate lets out a bark of laughter and runs a hand through their hair, pushing it out of their eyes. They’re kind eyes, Christen thinks. Not the same as those of the Baron’s men. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. The Princess of the North offered your sister something she couldn’t resist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen lets the energy dissipate, pushes it back into the ground, back into the air, and puts her hand on her hips. “And what was that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate smirks. “A place at her side, ruling. And, of course, some revenge on the man who would have seen her live her life as less than equal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we’re just supposed to take your word for it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin looms close, her voice strong. She looks as if she’s about to step between Christen and Kate, and Christen notices the knife in her hand still ready to strike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate shrugs. “You can or you cannot, but it is the truth.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t believe them. In my experience if something sounds too good to be true, then it is,” Tobin mutters stepping closer to Christen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen, though, is still contemplating Kate’s words. She can think of some motivations for them to lie. If they are, in fact, working for the Baron, then the lie to get them to let their guard down is a cunning ploy. Even if they’re working for the Princess of the North as they claim, that doesn’t mean their claims about Tyler are true. Perhaps they simply see the value in having both Press daughters as their captives instead of just one. Or perhaps news of Christen’s powers have spread and the Princess of the North has designs to use her the same way the Baron does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Tyler —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tyler has always been headstrong. And everything they’ve learned about the Baron on their travels has supported that he is not the type of husband that Christen would wish for her sister. If he started trying to control her, Christen could see her sister leaving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if they’re telling the truth?” Christen murmurs back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then they should prove it,” Tobin replies loud enough for Kate to hear, if their eye roll is any indication. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen turns her eyes back to Kate and the other soldiers. “Can you prove it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate shakes their head. “What proof would you accept?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a valid question. If they had something of Tyler’s it would do nothing to prove that she had gone willingly. The only thing that would prove it without a shadow of a doubt would be —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take me to her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Us. Take US to her,” Ali corrects, stepping forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate studies them for a moment, then nods. “Very well. I’m sure she would like to see her sister.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Tobin replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” Christen asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will not blindly follow them so that we walk straight into a trap,” Tobin retorts. “And neither should you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen sighs. The options aren’t great either way. They are outnumbered and their weapons are no match for the soldiers’. Her magic is their only advantage, but she would be lucky to have no casualties on her side and they’ve had far too much luck already. It’s bound to run out soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you give us a minute, please?” Christen requests, looking back at Kate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate nods, but does not step back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen sighs and takes Tobin by the hand, leading her away, beckoning for her other friends to follow. To her relief, Kate gives them space and doesn’t follow. It’s a point in their favor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If they can lead us to Tyler, it’s worth the risk,” Christen declares. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if they can’t? If they have no intention of doing anything of the sort?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we might be able to get more information out of the soldiers about who the Princess of the North is and where Tyler actually is,” Christen explains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey and Emily nod. Ali looks wary, but nods as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ash and Tobin, however, exchange a look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we sure it wouldn’t be good to at least try to disarm them?” Ash suggests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They treated us well on the walk here,” Emily offers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin glares and snatches her hand from Christen’s. She hadn’t realized she was still holding it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought that the absence of Tobin’s hand in her own leaves her cold makes her cheeks flush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So they should get to gut us all in our sleep?” Tobin counters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think they would,” Lindsey volunteers hesitantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you wouldn’t. You come from a world where people treat you well all the time. Trust me that people don’t always say what they mean and their intentions are not always good,” Tobin retorts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lindsey appears to retreat into herself at the harshness of Tobin’s tone, and Christen doesn’t miss the comforting hand that Emily puts on her arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen isn’t quite sure why Tobin is so skeptical of the soldiers’ intentions. So far their behavior hasn’t warranted so much suspicion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They need to offer us something if we’re going to go with them,” Tobin declares, turning back to face Christen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen glances at Ali, who looks at Ash before nodding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll talk to them,” Christen concedes. Perhaps if they offer up some of their weapons it would be a start. If they truly mean them no harm it shouldn’t be an issue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going with you,” Tobin replies, matching her step back towards the soldiers and Kate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen pauses and raises an eyebrow at her. Could it be — Is she maybe — </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you care what happens to me, Wanderer?” she challenges, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin’s fierceness flickers, and for a split second, Christen can see embarrassment on her face. “It just seems like a waste to have you die when we’ve come so far, Witch,” Tobin replies. Her eyes, a deep brown, meet Christen’s gaze, and though her jaw is once again set in determination, Christen sees a hint of worry there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I guess I’m lucky that you’re coming with me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t make my soldiers offer up the very weapons that keep them safe to people we’ve only just met,” Kate answers. Their shoulders are back and their gaze is steely, but Christen still feels no threat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we’re not coming. You go fetch Tyler and bring her to us,” Tobin challenges. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate narrows their eyes at Tobin. “What I will offer,” Kate continues, through clenched teeth, “is my own sword.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She holds it out to Christen, offering her the hilt. Christen looks to Tobin, then takes it carefully. “Why your own?” she asks Kate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I have no doubts about my own ability to take on an enemy with the weapons I have left,” Kate replies with a self-assured smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin snorts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll offer my dagger. If they’re going to travel with us, it would be useful to have them better armed than they appear to be,” a black woman who looks no older than twenty steps forward, holding out her sheathed weapon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few other soldiers step forward behind her, holding out weapons of their own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen looks at Tobin, silently asking, “Is that good enough for you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin takes the offered dagger, unsheathes it, feels the weight of it in her strong hands, then nods as she resheathes it. “We’ll need some time to pack up camp.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate nods. “Why don’t we stay the night here. We can make our own accommodations. And we have food to share, if you need.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen looks at Tobin, sees the tension in her shoulders. Her comment from earlier echoes in Christen’s mind. What if the plan is simply to gut them all in their sleep? But they could easily take them now and they are actively offering up their own weapons to help arm her and her friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. That sounds good. We’ll set off just after dawn.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate seems to balk for a moment. Christen is under the distinct impression that they’re more used to giving the orders than taking them, but they nod. “It is settled.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Distrust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tobin does NOT trust their new companions.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Super duper short chapter. I almost cut it, tbh, and then it didn't end quite the way I expected, but I hope you guys will like it anyway. <br/>xx</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s too convenient. Way too convenient. In her experience, solutions and explanations don’t just magically fall into your lap at the right time. And Kate and company seem like just that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except Christen doesn’t see it that way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen who’s walking calmly at the front next to Kate, who’s bonding with the other soldiers and making friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s far too trusting. It’s going to get them all killed. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The weather gets worse the further north they get and of course Kate and their soldiers are prepared for that. More evidence in the far too convenient category as far as Tobin is concerned. They have blankets to share. And rations. Who carries extra rations? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unless they’d been looking for them all along and were now lulling them into a false sense of security just to lead them into a trap. Well Tobin, for one, would not be caught off-guard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just take it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin shakes her head. Her cloak isn’t made for snow, but it’s warm enough. She doesn’t need the pelt that’s being offered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d prefer frostbite to hospitality?” Kate’s smirking. They think this is funny. They know full well they’re leading them into a trap and they’re amused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin glares. “Think I’ll go see if I can find some dry wood for a fire,” she mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hurry before it snows!” Kate calls after her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin ignores her. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It does snow. Not heavy, but enough to cover the ground in a thin layer and the damp wetness seeps into Tobin’s clothes. It seeps into everyone and makes the going slower. Even some of Kate’s soldiers seem to finally show a little bit of disgruntledness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re not so bad, you know,” Emily says. Her cheeks are rosy and her blue eyes are bright and it’s clear that she’s eaten well since they’ve joined forces with the soldiers. There’s the constant presence of Lindsey at her side, too, bringing joy to her steps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin knows better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tracks Christen with her eyes up ahead, hand never too far from the knife on her hip just in case she needs to run up and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Defend her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprise attack?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not sure what to expect, but she expects something. She’s sure of that. “Yeah. Right. Tell me that when they sneak up when we least expect and stab us in the back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tobin, they really don’t seem like —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin speeds up. She doesn’t mean to be so rude, but if they’re all going to be so blindly trusting, the best thing to do is remove herself a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Comfy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin could honestly do without the sneer in Kate’s voice. “I’m fine. Thanks,” she bites back coldly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rock she’s using as a pillow is anything but comfortable, but she’s not about to give Kate the satisfaction of knowing that. Then there’s the bitter coldness of the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure you don’t want this blanket?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate’s fucking amused at this - at the weather, at the long day of travel, at the inhospitable camping ground that’s far too out in the open for Tobin’s liking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Tobin replies, not looking up at them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Suit yourself.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s this attitude they have, like nothing bothers them, like they know more than she does. It drives Tobin crazy. Some of the soldiers seem okay. They’re just following orders after all. Following orders keeps them fed and cared for. It probably keeps their families cared for too. Tobin’s seen more than a few who’ve fallen into service for those reasons. But Kate...Kate’s different. Kate’s calling the shots. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin doesn’t like them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not one bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She has her head down and she’s willing the chills from her body, willing any external signs of cold to depart so that nobody can tell how much she wishes she could have accepted the blanket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something moves behind her and her whole body tenses, her hand already reaching for her knife. And then warmth presses against her back and Christen’s voice in her ear murmurs, “Here. I’ll help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand wraps around Tobin’s waist and she presses into her back and Tobin doesn’t relax a single muscle. She hadn’t expected the closeness. She’s not sure she wants it. She’s not sure she trusts it. The closer people are…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was fine,” she mumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure you were, Wanderer,” Christen murmurs, her breath hot on Tobin’s neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though she wants to fight it, Tobin’s body is heating quickly, the shivers that had threatened moments before now vanished as the chill is pushed from her body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Tobin notices it. She notices the soft glow on the hand around her waist. Christen is cheating. She’s using magic for warmth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t all need magic to stay warm, Witch,” Tobin teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christen nuzzles in against her back and it makes something ache in Tobin’s chest, something she doesn’t want to think about. Not now. Not when the imminent loss of this company, whether it’s at the hands of Kate and their soldiers or at the completion of their quest, is near. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do when you refuse blankets.” Christen’s voice is drowsy. Her lips brush the skin at the back of Tobin’s neck, and a shiver comes unbidden that has nothing to do with the cold air or the snow beneath her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s tempted to move away, to shrug out of Christen’s embrace. There’s no reason, really, that Christen should have felt the need to come and keep her warm. There’s nothing —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tobin takes a deep breath, but cannot relax her muscles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sleep,” Christen urges from just behind her. Her arm wraps a little more tightly around Tobin’s middle. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a while, but eventually Tobin does sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dreams are uneasy and her sleep is restless, but when she wakes, Christen is before her, a smile on her face, her arm still wrapped around Tobin’s waist, and Tobin does not feel the cold at all. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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